


Soldiers of Different Wars

by Xingshou



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust Being Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust's Name is Anthony (Hazbin Hotel), Angel and Husk are both such stubborn assholes sometimes, Angel and Husk coming to a mutual understanding, Angel's family - Freeform, Backstory, Coming Out, Drugs, F/F, Flashbacks, Italian Mafia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex Work, Vietnam War, War, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xingshou/pseuds/Xingshou
Summary: Angel doesn't understand why Husk has to be such a grouchy asshole all the time. Husk doesn't understand why Angel can't just back off. Neither of them understands that they have more in common than they realize.
Relationships: Angel Dust & Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 47
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading this book called "The Mafia and The Gays" about how the mafia basically ran gay bars in New York up until the Stonewall riots and then this story happened. So if you're a history nerd like me you'll probably double like this story! No promises that I'll be able to update this as fast as the last one because things are heating up at work now with Thanksgiving coming up, but we'll see what happens. 
> 
> A few notes before we get started -  
> 1.) There will be some time-period typical slurs so if that sort of a thing is triggering for you, just keep that in mind!  
> 2.) There's been debates on what Henroin and Arackniss' names are but in my Italian family almost every head of the family is named John and if they have a first son they're Johnny so I'm going with that. Henroin - John, Arackniss - Johnny. Also I decided Angel's mom's name is Maria idk.  
> 3.) I don't know where the idea came from that Husk is a Vietnam vet but I like it so I'm going with it.  
> 4\. I tagged this Angel & Husk instead of Angel/Husk or HuskerDust or whatever because I'm not meaning this to be a romantic story per se, more of a story about coming to a mutual understanding if that makes any sense. 
> 
> Okay that's all, enjoy!

Angel stretched his arms over his head as he entered the lobby of the hotel, hip-checking the door shut behind him. He’d actually had a pretty good night, Val had been in a good mood and let him keep most of his tips from dancing, so he had some cash burning a hole in his pocket and he was super ready to drop it on a cocktail to top off the night before he headed to bed. 

His steps faltered when he noticed the bar was empty. That was strange – it wasn’t that late. Husk didn’t usually move from his post until midnight at the earliest, and it was barely even eleven thirty. Angel frowned, folding his arms. Maybe the cat was out doing something for Alastor? There went his hope of a cocktail. 

Angel turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, thinking maybe he could cobble together something from the leftover liquor he had in his room from the last time Cherri had visited for a movie night. He paused as he heard a faint clinking coming from behind the bar. Tipping his head, Angel heard it again – the definite sound of something clinking against glass. 

He stepped down off the stairs and cautiously approached the bar again, this time leaning over it to look down. 

Husk sat there on the floor, leaning with his back against the bar, staring into space. The clinking that Angel had heard was the cat’s claw against the empty bottle he held in one paw. Several other empty bottles were scattered around his feet. Angel was used to the smell of stale booze, but it was so thick in the air down below the bar that he had to lift his head for a moment to take a deep breath before lowering it again to speak. 

“Husk? Hey, uh, you okay?” 

“M’fine. Go away.” 

“So… the bar’s closed, then?” 

“Does it fuckin’ look open, asshole?” 

Angel rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. Geez.” He turned to go, to try his backup plan of putting together some kind of cocktail from his leftovers, but something stopped him. The thousand yard stare he’d seen on Husk’s face – he’d seen it many times before in his own mirror. Groaning internally, he turned around. 

“Ya want some help off that floor?” 

“No.” 

“Aw, c’mon, kitty,” Angel said, coming around the bar and squatting next to the cat, shoving some empty bottles aside, “We both know ya ain’t gettin’ up on your own.”  
No answer, and Angel had to refrain from rolling his eyes. And people said _he_ was hard to deal with. 

“What if I make ya a hangover drink, hm?” 

That got Husk’s attention, and the cat swiveled his head to narrow his eyes at Angel suspiciously. “D’ya fuckin’ know what you’re doin’?” 

“’Course I do,” Angel said, “Y’ain’t the only one around here who knows how to mix drinks, dipshit. C’mon.” He crouched down, sliding his arms under Husk’s underarms to pull him to his feet, practically dragging him out from behind the bar and plopping him on a stool before going back behind the bar and pulling some bottles from the shelves. 

Having four arms was useful when it came to doing things like mixing drinks, and Angel had a glass up on the bar in minutes, sliding it down to Husk. The bartender narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he picked it up, taking a sip. 

“Well?” Angel asked, putting his hand on his hip. 

Husk tipped the rest of the glass into his mouth, starting to chuckle. “Very funny, spider. Where’d ya learn this one?” 

“Whaddya mean?” 

“Puttin’ the mixers in first and floatin’ some alcohol on the top so it smells like booze but barely has a drop in there. Clever way to deal with people who’re too drunk.” 

Angel folded his arms, “Kitty, if I gave ya real drink, ya would prolly be findin’ out if there’s a second Hell by now.” 

“Real hilarious. Why even bother?” 

Angel was starting to wonder that himself, but he shrugged his shoulders. “I’d rather not have Al on my case if ya keeled over.” 

“Hm.” Husk squeezed his eyes shut tightly, then gripped the counter of the bar as he started to retch. Angel’s eyes widened in horror and he stepped back. 

“Not on the floor, Husk, aim for the sink!” 

Husk leaned over the bar to aim for the tiny sink in the dish pit area, but after a moment, shook his head and slid back on the stool. “False alarm…” 

“Since I’m back here anyway, mind if I make myself somethin’?” Angel asked, and Husk shook his head, watching as Angel moved around. 

“So… where’d ya learn it?” 

Angel paused and smirked at Husk, leaning over the counter to beep him on the nose, causing the cat to pull back in annoyance. “Wouldn’t ya like to know.” 

\--- 

Lower East Side, New York City, 1938 

_Anthony hesitated in the driveway outside his family’s brownstone. Vito’s car was parked right behind his father’s, which meant the two were probably having a conversation in the kitchen. The kitchen Anthony was going to have to walk through to get anywhere else in the house._

_Vito Scotelli was his father’s best friend, and really, really did not like Anthony. The feeling was mutual. He always had to be up in Anthony’s business, telling him to be more like his brother, more like his father, when was he finally going to join The Business instead of wasting his time on nonsense, blah blah blah. Anthony had heard it all before, and he seriously wasn’t in the mood to hear it again._

_His eyes moved over to the other first floor windows – one was open. Their father was always yelling at Molly for leaving her window open all the time. Anthony smirked to himself as he placed a foot on the molding outside the window, hooking his arms onto the sill. A little scatterbrained of Molly, sure, but utterly convenient for him._

_Molly leapt up from where she’d been writing something at her desk when she saw her brother scrabbling to pull himself through the window, running over to him and grabbing his arms to pull him all the way in. “Tony?! What the hell are you doing?!”_

_“Crawlin’ in the window, the fuck does it look like I’m doin’?” Anthony said, wincing as he crashed to the floor, pushing himself up to sit against the wall._

_Molly folded her arms. “Ever hear of a door?”_

_“Vito’s in the kitchen,” Anthony said. “I don’t wanna deal with his shit.”_

_“Bad news then,” Molly said, “’Cause I heard Ma say he could stay for dinner. He and Pops have been talkin’ for ages. It must be somethin’ real important.”_

_“Fuck. Think I can get away wit’out comin’ out for dinner tonight?”_

_“Not a chance in Hell.”_

_Anthony groaned, thunking his head against the wall. He sat up, startled, as their mother opened the door._

_“Molly, it’s almost time for dinner, come and help set the –“ Maria paused as her eyes fell on her son sitting on the floor. “Tony, what are ya doin’ in your sister’s room?”_

_“Uh… nothin’?”_

_Maria shook her head, “Come outta there before ya father sees ya. You know you ain’t supposed to be in the girl’s room. ‘Sides, he wants to talk to ya about somethin’.”  
Anthony hesitated before getting to his feet, exchanging a glance with Molly before going to the door. Maria gripped Anthony’s arm as he passed her, making eye contact. _

_“Try not to push his buttons, Tony.”_

_Anthony gritted his teeth, pulling his arm away from her. “I ain’t the one wit’ the problem.”_

_While Maria and Molly made their way to the dining room to set the table, Anthony cautiously stepped into the kitchen, lingering in the doorway. The two men were sitting at the corner of the kitchen table, glasses of whiskey in front of them._

_“I’m tellin’ ya, it’s a great racket,” Vito was saying. “You’re a real jamoke if ya don’t wanna get in on it John, you’d clean up real good. And they don’t give ya no trouble, either, pay on time.”_

_“I dunno, wit’ Johnny up the river for another week, we’re stretched pretty thin as it is… Not sure I wanna risk –“ John paused as he noticed his son hanging in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at him. “The fuck are ya just standin’ there for, Tony? Give a guy a heart attack.”_

_“Sorry,” Anthony muttered, and Vito leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his ample belly as he frowned._

_“Don’t fuckin’ mutter in front of your old man, learn some respect, kid. Here, sit down, have a seat.”_

_Anthony glanced at his father, but John waved a hand towards an empty chair, so he had no choice but to sit down. John slid a glass of whiskey over to him, and he took it gratefully._

_“You’ve got a golden opportunity starin’ you in the face here, kid,” Vito said. “How’d ya like to be like ya brother?”_

_“What, in jail?” Anthony flinched as his father smacked him upside the head._

_“Show some respect!”_

_Anthony scowled down at the table, already guessing he wasn’t going to like where this conversation was headed._

_“I gotta investment in one a’ them fairy clubs down on eighty-eighth,” Vito said. “It’s real good for runnin’ booze through. Just need someone checkin’ in on the inside once in a while to make sure no one’s tippin’ off the pigs, and your pops thought you’d be perfect for the job.”_

_Anthony frowned at his father. “I dunno, Pops, I –“_

_“You’re doin’ it,” John said._

_“But –“_

_“D’ya like this nice warm house to live in?” John asked, folding his arms. “D’ya like the food I put on the table for ya? I’d send your brother but you know he ain’t comin’ back for another week, and it’s high time ya started pullin’ your weight in the family business, anyway. By the time Johnny was nineteen he was already runnin’ booze. Tomorrow you’re goin’ down to the Blue Parrott an’ makin’ sure those fags are toein’ the line for Vito, got it?”_

_Anthony let out a long sigh. “Yes, Dad.”_

_“Boys! Dinner!” Maria called from the dining room, and John shook a finger in Anthony’s face as they all stood up._

_“Not another word about it ‘less ya got some problems wit’ ‘em tomorrow or somethin’. And I don’t want no mopey face at the dinner table. You’re a man now, try to act like one.”_

_Anthony waited for his father and Vito to walk into the dining room before muttering very quietly to himself, “How do I do that?”_

\--- 

“C’mon, kitty, y’could at least _try_ to move your feet a li’l bit!” Angel complained as he half-helped, half-manhandled Husk towards his bedroom. He was more than grateful Husk had chosen a first floor bedroom – he couldn’t imagine trying to drag the lanky cat up all those stairs. 

“I fuckin’ told ya to leave me behind the bar, who told ya to drag me to my damn room?” Husk growled. “My shift ain’t even over yet.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Angel scoffed, extending his third pair of arms so he could open the door to Husk’s room without dropping the cat, “First of all, I’m ya only customer, second of all, like ya could even run the bar in this state. All that booze make you delusional, too?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“You’re welcome,” Angel said as he dumped Husk on his bed. 

Husk groaned, pushing his face into the pillow, his voice coming out muffled. “Idiot, I ain’t supposed to leave the bar til shift’s over…” 

“Yeah well, I’ll cover for ya if Smiles asks, okay?” Angel rolled his eyes, pausing as he waited for an answer. “Okay?” 

There was no answer except for some soft snoring. Angel sighed, turning around and pulling the door shut behind him. He didn’t know if Husk had actually heard his offer, but considering there was only an hour or so left in Husk’s shift anyway, he figured he could stand behind the bar for a bit. And maybe help himself to something while he was at it.  
He wandered back to the bar, letting himself behind it, leaning against the wall for a moment. He was trying to decide what he actually wanted to drink when the front door opened and Charlie and Vaggie stepped through, giggling to each other. 

“Well, well, well,” Angel smirked, leaning forward on his elbows on the bar’s counter, “Can I assume this was a successful date night?” 

“It was great!” Charlie gushed, “We went to this place, and there was this, like, rotating restaurant, and then–“ 

Vaggie put a hand on Charlie’s arm to shut her up for a second, “Angel, is there a reason you’re behind the bar and Husk isn’t?” 

“I’m doin’ him a favor,” Angel said simply. 

Vaggie raised her eyebrows. “And helping yourself while you’re at it?” 

Angel held up all four of his arms to show all his hands were empty, “I’m clean, toots. C’mon, I wanna hear more about the date and this rotatin’ restaurant or whateva. I can make ya girls somethin’.” 

“Yes!” Charlie said, grabbing Vaggie’s arm and dragging her down to sit on a stool with her. “Do you know how to make something sweet?’ 

“Sweet drinks are my specialty, babe,” Angel said, turning to search out the ingredients he needed. Damn, did Husk just shove bottles wherever back here? There was no rhyme or reason to it at all. 

“Here ya go, ladies,” Angel said after a few minutes, sliding down two colorful drinks with umbrellas in them. 

Charlie picked hers up, holding it up to the light before taking a sip, “Wow, Angel, this is great! And it’s so pretty!” 

“It isn’t bad,” Vaggie admitted, sipping at hers as well. 

Angel shrugged. “I try. I dunno why you broads are always so surprised I can do other shit, I’m not always takin’ my clothes off an’ fuckin’ people, ya know. That’s just _most_ of the time.” 

“Have you tended bar a lot?” Charlie asked. 

“I been around it. I wouldn’t say ‘a lot’,” Angel said. “Now, c’mon. Tell me ‘bout that restaurant.” 

\--- 

Lower East Side, New York City, 1938 

_Anthony stood nervously outside the Blue Parrott club, holding his hat in his hands. The sidewalk outside was deserted – a faint blue light emanated from the club’s window, but he didn’t see anyone going in or out. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside._

_The inside of the club seemed just as deserted as the outside. A bar ran along one wall, and there was a small, darkened dance floor. Chairs were scattered haphazardly around a jukebox in one corner. Anthony frowned, looking around, wondering if he were in the right place._

_“Can I help you?” A slight man with salt-and-pepper hair leaned over the bar, raising an eyebrow at him. Anthony took a breath, trying to switch into the confident, threatening mode he’d seen his brother and father do so many times._

_“I’m here for Vito,” he said, “Ya owe him, and I’m here ta collect the –“ Anthony blinked as the man stepped up to him and shoved an envelope into his hands before turning away.  
“There ya go kid, Vito’s insurance money. Now scram, see ya next Thursday.” _

_Anthony looked at the envelope in his hand, then back at the man behind the bar. He hadn’t expected it to be so… easy._

_“Hey, wait a minute!”_

_The man turned back, “What?”_

_Anthony gestured around to the empty club, “How d’ya even run a business in here? It’s fuckin’ dead!”_

_The man just smirked at him. “Maybe it’s a secret. Now get outta here, kid.”_

_Anthony watched as he went behind the bar, disappearing through a door marked UTILITY. He started to turn to leave, then paused. Wait a minute – the man had gone through a utility door? Did he literally just walk into a closet?!_

_Curious, Anthony looked around for a moment before vaulting over the bar, pulling the door open. He wasn’t greeted with a closet or cleaning supplies – instead, there was a staircase leading down, and he could just about make out the faint sound of music._

_He made his way down the steps, pushing open the door at the bottom of them, his eyes widening at what lay before him._

_Unlike the club upstairs, this place was hopping. Bright lights shone down on a packed dance floor, and a jazz band sat playing away in one corner. Men jostled each other for drinks at the bar against the wall – Anthony could barely hear himself think for the noise. Anthony scanned the area, taking in the atmosphere of fun and drink, taking an unconscious step forward as he realized something else – all the patrons were men. Even the ones dancing together on the dance floor. Sure, he’d heard his family mention homosexuals before, but he’d never seen any, not like this._

_“Well, hey, there.” Anthony dropped his hat in surprise as a gentleman who appeared to be in his twenties sidled up to him, “I haven’t seen you around here before.”_

_“I wouldn’t bother with that one, Joey,” The man who’d given Anthony the insurance money shouted from across the room, “He’s mobbed up.”_

_“Oh, you’re no fun, Sal,” Joey waved a hand in his direction, then picked up Anthony’s hat to give it back to him. “This your first time here?”_

_Anthony nodded silently, and Joey laughed. “Cat got your tongue?”_

_“Sorry, I just – I neva seen… this, before,” Anthony said._

_Joey smiled at him. “Well then, how’s about we start with a drink?”_

\--- 

Angel yawned to himself as he set the coffee machine going and plopped into a seat at the kitchen table. He’d ended up staying even longer than Husk’s usual shift at the bar, just chatting with Charlie and Vaggie, which normally he wouldn’t mind, except he’d gotten a text early from Val asking him to come in. So much for sleeping the morning away.  
He glanced up, startled, at the click of claws on the floor as Husk dragged himself into the kitchen. Angel couldn’t help the smirk. 

“I’d say look what the cat dragged in, but…” 

“Shut up.” 

Angel rolled his eyes, “D’ya just have a series of three phrases ya cycle through, or what?” 

“…Stop.” 

“So the answer’s yes, then?” Angel leaned back, getting up as the coffee timer dinged, “This is early for you, kitty, especially since ya were outta it last night. Everythin’ okay?” 

“That’s none of your business.” 

“Aaaand we’ve made it to phrase number four!” Angel moved around grabbing two mugs, pouring coffee into one and placing it in front of Husk. “Ya could at least thank me for last night, asshole, I didn’t hafta cover for ya at the bar.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” 

Angel raised an eyebrow at the cat, gesturing to the coffee, “For the hangover. An’ I know ya didn’t but ya could at least pretend.” 

Husk took a sip and made a face. “Ugh.” 

“Hey!” Angel said, genuinely insulted, “Don’t say ‘ugh’ to my coffee! Just ‘cause I didn’t toss some vodka or shit in there, geez.” His phone beeped, and he glanced at the message from Val. “Well, kitty, it’s ya lucky day, ‘cause I gotta get outta ya hair now. Don’t miss me too much, ‘kay?” He leaned over to beep Husk on the nose, causing the cat to bat his hand away. 

“Dick,” Husk muttered into his coffee. 

“Ass,” Angel shook his head as he headed out, slamming the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Husk sat at the kitchen table for another hour after Angel left, just staring into space while he drank the increasingly colder coffee. Yesterday had been bad, and he could already tell today wasn’t going to be much better. He could tell because no matter how much his brain was telling him to get up, do something, _just move you asshole…!_

His body wouldn’t participate. He just kept sitting there, staring, his claw clinking on the ceramic coffee mug. He hated when he got like this; totally aware that he was frozen, looking like he was stuck in a trance on the outside until someone knocked him out of it.

“Whoops, sorry, Husk!” Husk blinked slowly and looked down as Niffty nudged against his leg while she tried to sweep under the table, “Can you lift your feet up for me? Thanks!”   
Finally he seemed to be back in control of his own body again as he pulled his feet up onto the chair with him so NIffty could reach under. He glanced over at the coffee pot Angel had left on the counter. There was enough for another cup, but that would mean getting up. A headache was already starting to nudge its way behind his left eyeball – he didn’t have to be behind the bar again for at least another six hours. Maybe he should just go lie flat on his face until then. Of course, that would also mean getting up. 

Husk groaned, just putting his head face-first on the table. He tilted his head to glare a little bit as Charlie and Vaggie came into the kitchen together, Charlie in the middle of some excited sentence, like usual. Why did everyone have to be so damn loud all the time?! 

“Oh, Husk!” He flicked his eyes towards Charlie, who was looking at him, hands clasped in front of her. She looked concerned. Great. “Are you alright? We thought it was strange Angel took over your shift last night, and –“ 

“I’m fucking fine!” Husk said, finally getting enough energy to at least stand up, folding his wings around himself as he turned to go, “Maybe instead of worrying about me all the goddamn time, you should be worrying about why nobody in this god-forsaken hotel can mind their own fucking business! Jesus! Can you leave me the fuck alone for about five minutes? Ya think you can do that?!” 

Charlie stared at him, taken aback, and Husk didn’t wait for an answer as he chugged the last of the cold coffee and flipped her off as he went back to his room.   
He felt guilty the minute he stepped through his door. Why the fuck did he have to be like this? Whatever. It was too late to go and apologize now. He tipped himself onto his bed, closing his eyes. He felt like he’d only laid there for a few minutes when the banging of the front door roused him, but a glance at the red numbers on the digital clock he kept near his bed told him he’d been out of it for almost six hours – he’d slept the day away. Again. And now he needed to be at the bar. 

He could hear Angel’s voice floating through the lobby – that must’ve been who banged the door. Husk groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt like crap, which definitely meant Angel would want to spend time at the bar tonight. The spider had a strange sixth sense for knowing when exactly would be the worst time to show up was. Then again, if he didn’t get his ass up and behind the bar again pretty soon, there was an almost guaranteed chance Angel would let himself back there again, and wreak who-knew-what kind of havoc with his bottles and carefully arranged system. 

Husk let out a breath as he counted backwards from ten, hoisting himself up off the bed once he got to zero. 

As expected, Angel was sitting on one of the bar stools. Slightly less expected, Charlie had joined the spider again, a look of what Husk could only describe as amused concern on her face. 

“I’m sure it’ll grow back just fine, Angel,” Charlie was saying. 

“You don’t understand!” Angel whined, “It’s like losin’ a limb! What if it doesn’t grow back fine?!” 

As Husk got closer, he realized Angel looked a little different – the spider’s long, spiky bangs were gone, leaving only a short spiky pink-tipped mess in the front. Angel slumped dramatically in his stool, “My life is over!” 

“Gimme a fuckin’ break,” Husk said as he made his way behind the bar. “It ain’t the end of the world, it’s just your damn hair.” 

Angel sat back up, “Ey, my hair could be the difference between a good tip for ya and nothin’, kitty!” 

Husk didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to encourage any conversation with Angel Dust tonight. But after a few minutes, curiosity got the better of him. “The fuck happened, anyway?” 

“Eh, fuckin’ old shit snake,” Angel said, “Cherri wanted some fun and the dude got some new machine with one o’ those spinnin’ blades – got a bit too close, an’ – an’ –“ He trailed off as he seemed to realize Charlie was still sitting there, “I mean… nothin’?” 

“Angel!” Charlie said, using her ‘disappointed’ tone, “I thought we talked about this –“ 

“I swear, toots, it wasn’t anythin’ – “ 

Even though the two were sitting right in front of him, their voices started to fade away as Husk’s brain ground to a halt again, his eyes fixed on one spot on the countertop. Shit, not _now_ – 

\--- 

_“Stop whinin’ kid, it’s just your goddamn hair,” Lt. Husk rolled his eyes as he leaned back to light a cigarette outside the barber tent for the new recruits. One particular new recruit was taking the mandatory haircut exceptionally badly._

_“I just got it how I liked it,” the young man said, “And I was growin’ it long, for like, the protest!”_

_Husk rolled his eyes. “Right, the protest. How’d that work out for ya?” He got up and walked away before the new soldier could respond. Damn kids – this is what you got when the President decided to draft any damn fool who was over eighteen and had a dick._

_“Yo, Jim,” Another Lieutenant was waving to him from outside the barracks, holding a small box in his hands._

_Husk wandered his way over, finishing his cigarette as he did so. Damn, he wished he had more. “What, Danny?”_

_“Check it out,” Danny opened the box, revealing a small bottle of whiskey, “Gift from back home – thought we’d break into it before we ship out tomorrow.”_

_“Fuck,” Husk said, “I ever tell you that you’re my favorite in this damn outfit?”_

_Danny laughed, gesturing him inside the barracks and pulling out two mugs from his mess kit, pouring half the whiskey into one and sliding it over. “You been over there once already, right?” he asked, taking a sip out of his own mug, “What’s it like?”_

_“Hot,” Husk said, “And wet. Ya want some advice from me, Danny, don’t write home askin’ for whiskey next time – ask for more socks. They’re like gold over there.”_

_“You’re joking.”_

_“Not even a little bit.”_

_Husk glanced toward the open door as he saw the new recruit from earlier walking past. Their conversation floated in towards them, and Husk could just make out the word ‘hair.’ He rolled his eyes, “Fucking kids.”_

\--- 

“Are you still whining about your goddamn fucking hair?!” Husk burst out suddenly, slamming his fist onto the counter. 

Angel stared at him, startled. Husk noticed Charlie wasn’t there anymore – when had she left? He hadn’t noticed. Angel was still staring at him like he’d grown a second head. 

“Husky, darlin’, I haven’t said anythin’ for the past ten minutes,” Angel said, holding up his phone to reveal he’d been texting. 

Husk pulled back, refusing to show he was embarrassed. “That’s a new record for you then.” 

Angel leaned over the counter, fluffing up his chest, “But if ya wanted ta discuss my hair –“ 

“I don’t.” 

“Whateva,” Angel rolled his eyes, “Just toss a cosmo up here then, kitty cat. I may as well get blasted ta forget my troubles.” 

Husk turned to grab the proper bottles, grinding his teeth together as he tried to force himself to focus. “Troubles like what?” He growled, “Some people have _actual_ problems, y’know.” 

When he placed the cosmo down a few moments later, he noticed Angel had a strange look on his face – like – Husk couldn’t place it. Hurt, maybe? 

Angel took the drink and stood up, tossing it back in one go before placing the glass back down. “I can take a hint, Husk. I’ll get outta ya fur.” He turned to fix the cat with a glare, “But don’t pretend like ya know me. Ya don’t. I thought maybe you’d like some company since you’re always sittin’ down here by yourself.” He reached into his fluff and tossed a five onto the counter, surprising the bartender – Angel almost never willingly paid for his drinks unless he was forced, and even then he usually tried to wiggle out of it. “See ya ‘round.” 

“Hey, wait,” Husk said, picking up the five, “The drink doesn’t cost that much –“ 

Angel didn’t turn back around, already halfway up the stairs. “Call it a tip.” 

Husk sighed, tossing the bill into an empty jar under the counter that he usually reserved for tips – a jar that usually sat empty. How was it that every time he interacted with Angel Dust, it usually ended up with the porn star storming away. 

_Probably because you’re a no-good piece of shit._ Goddammit, that stupid voice was back. Husk automatically reached for the open bottle of vodka he’d used to make Angel’s cosmo. _You know if anyone actually wanted to spend time with you, they’d realize what a piece of shit you are and leave anyway. Better to push them away now, you fucking piece of –_

\---- 

_“—Shit! Lousy, cheap-o garbage fuckin’—“ Lt. Husk muttered obscenities to himself as he leaned against a coconut palm to wrench his boots off. Leave it to the United States military to forget to leave something in the budget for some goddamn decent shoes. The sole on his left boot was already starting to flap off, and the right one was full of fucking jungle water. He tipped it over, shaking it to get all the droplets out, not that it would help – they were due another rainstorm in the afternoon._

_He pulled a knife as he heard something crashing through the dense forest nearby. He tensed, ready for anything, when a young soldier stumbled out of the forest onto the path. Husk blinked, lowering his knife – it was the same young private he’d chastised a few days previously before shipping out, the one who’d been so up in arms about his hair. What was his name – Sanderson or something? Husk tried to make it a point not to get too close to anyone in his outfit. He’d learned that the hard way on his last tour._

_“Hey, you!” Husk hissed, “The fuck ya makin’ so much noise, for?!”_

_The private turned to stare at him, obviously surprised to find him there. Husk gestured for him to get lower to the ground, which he did, shimmying his way over to Husk. “Can’t get my damn boots off.”_

_Husk glanced down at the private’s feet. Sure enough, the vulcanized rubber seemed to be molded to the young man’s calves._

_“Fuck, you been sleepin’ in these wet?”_

_“I was scared we’d have to run, I wanted to be ready…”_

_“Idiot,” Husk flicked his knife out again, “Hang onta something.”_

_“Wha – hey!” The private squeaked as Husk grabbed onto his foot, manhandling the boot so he could get the knife between flesh and rubber. Luckily, the boot wasn’t seriously grafted on like Husk had seen in some other soldiers – it was easy enough to get the blade in between the boot and the kid’s calf without causing much more than grazes on the skin. After a few moments he yanked, the boot sliding right off._

_“Don’t sleep in ‘em wet again,” Husk said, doing the same with the second boot and placing it next to the first._

_The private was peeling off his wet socks, but he turned to flash a smile at Husk. “Lesson learned. I’ll hafta owe you one when we get back to camp, Lieutenant.” The smile disappeared as he dumped water out of his newly-freed boots, “Fuck, sure would be nice to have dry feet for once.”_

_“Toss it here,” Husk said, and the private obliged. He started to protest when Husk attacked the toe of the boot with his knife, but the older man held up a hand to shut him up.  
“Here,” Husk tossed them back when he was done, “Water should spill out the top now, keep it from puddling up in the bottom.” _

_“Wow,” the young man inspected the boots, “Guess I’ll have to double owe you!”_

_Husk winced, “You can start by not being so goddamn loud, you want the whole fuckin’ Viet Cong to here you?!”_

_“Sorry…” The private winced, falling silent._

_Husk sat there for a few minutes, then glanced at him. “…Sanderson, was it?” The private nodded. “S’gonna be a while before we get the signal to go back to camp.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, square package. “You play cards?”_  
\--- 

Sanderson. Husk hadn’t thought about him in a while. He lifted vodka bottle, but it was empty. Husk glanced over at the lobby clock – two a.m. Far past time for him to leave his post and head back to his room. 

He started to clean up the bar a little, wincing as a familiar radio static sound echoed through the lobby. So this day was just getting worse and worse. 

“Husker, my friend,” Alastor said, stepping up to the bar. “Your shift is over, yes?” 

“…Yeah,” Husk said hesitantly. “Why?” 

“Perfect timing, then. I have a small errand I need you to run for me.” 

Husk closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s fuckin’ two a.m., Alastor. Can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow?” 

Alastor hummed, and the radio static around him crackled, a sure sign of displeasure. “While I’m well aware of the late hour, my feline friend, I’m afraid this errand really can’t wait. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of our _arrangement.”_

Husk felt his tail bristle at that, but he took a breath, pushing it down. “Fuckin’ whatever. Whaddya need me to do.” 

“That’s the spirit!” As if he had a choice. Alastor pressed a scrap of paper into his paw. “There’s the address of the rather unfortunate demon who needs to be taught a lesson on why you do not mess around with the Radio Demon lightly. Please do take care of it as soon as possible.” 

“Right…” Husk looked down at the address in his hand. When he looked up again, Alastor was gone. Fucking prick. 

\---- 

It was pushing past six a.m. when Husk finally flew back to the hotel, landing in front of it for a moment to shake the blood off his claws. The last thing he needed was early-riser Charlie to see him looking like a horror-movie extra and screaming the place down. 

He paused, his ears twitching, as he heard the sound of a car making its way up the driveway. He stepped aside to get out of the way, eyebrows raising as he recognized Valentino’s hot pink limo. His eyebrows raised even further when he saw Angel Dust get out, leaning down to speak to someone through the window. Last he’d seen, Angel had been going up to his room around ten. When had he come back out? And to spend time with his pimp? 

Angel seemed to be arguing with whoever was in the back seat of the limo, standing up and turning away, folding his arms, as the car pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the road. Angel turned to go back to the hotel, freezing when he saw Husk standing there. 

The porn star’s make up was smudged around his eyes, giving him a raccoon-like look. He pulled his coat tighter around himself as he pointedly tried not to make eye contact with Husk. 

Husk knew he shouldn’t say anything, internally cursing himself when the words blurted out as Angel passed him. “Early for you, spider.” 

Angel paused, glancing at him, his face unreadable. Interesting – in Husk’s opinion, the spider usually wore his emotions loud and proud. This closed off and unreadable Angel was new. “Could say the same for ya. An’ it’s more like late. Not that it’s any of ya business.” 

“Now who’s recycling phrases?” 

Angel huffed and headed inside, Husk following. He was surprised when Angel didn’t head up to his room, instead flopping onto the couch and pulling out his phone, not even bothering to take off his coat. 

“Ain’t ya tired?” Husk asked. 

“Yeah but I gotta be back at work in ‘bout two hours so I may as well just stay awake,” Angel said matter-of-factly. “I’ll get a nap later.” 

Husk paused, glancing towards the kitchen. He padded into it, grabbing the coffee pot. He might not be able to verbalize an apology right now, but this was the next best thing.   
Angel looked up, surprised, as Husk dangled a mug in front of him. “You drink this shit like water, right?” 

The spider smirked as he took it, “If ya want a good time wit’ me ya can just ask, ya don’t have to try to roofie me with coffee.” 

“Shut the fuck up, as if I’d bother,” Husk rolled his eyes, and Angel sipped at the coffee, obviously relaxing as he did so. 

After a moment, Angel sighed. “Guess I should get my ass upstairs and at least take a shower or somethin’. Thanks for the coffee, Husky.” He stood, letting out a slight hiss of pain. 

Husk frowned, confused. Angel didn’t appear to be injured or anything, and he couldn’t smell any blood. “What’s wrong?” 

“Eh, my feet just hurt, s’all,” Angel said. 

Husk looked down – instead of the usual black heeled boots Angel often wore, he was wearing red thigh-highs that looked like they might be about two sizes too small. 

“So take the damn shoes off then,” Husk shrugged, “Walkin’ around in heels like that can’t be good for ya.” 

“Can’t,” Angel shrugged. “Val likes ‘em, and –“ 

_Warm jungle humidity surrounded them as Lt. Husk gripped the private’s boots to yank them off –_

Husk snapped back to attention, realizing Angel was still talking. “—can’t afford what it costs for me to take off my shoes in front of someone who ain’t me. Anyways,” Angel lifted the mug. “Thanks again. Say hi to ChaCha if I don’t see her today.” 

Husk shook his head slowly as Angel made his way upstairs. There was still coffee left – he could dump some rum or something in there. He needed a stiff drink and a well-deserved blackout nap to make him forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided Husk's first name is Jim and his last name is still Husk lol. There's a reason for him not changing it but spoilerrrss.   
> Also both Angel's and Husk's flashbacks do actually have to do with the story I promise! We're just setting up stuff now :) Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to comment or kudos or whatever if you'd like to! 
> 
> Follow me on Twitter @Xingshou1 if ya want!


	3. Chapter 3

Angel pouted as he prodded at his shortened bangs in the mirror. Valentino had not been happy about his new impromptu hairstyle, not at all, especially since they were already three scenes in to a large shoot that was going to be dropping soon. Now they’d have to do all the scenes over again for consistency’s sake. 

He knew he shouldn’t have posted that damn selfie on Voxtagram to whine to his fans, but he couldn’t help it. He was starting to feel isolated, and he’d figured at least some praise from the Internet would help. Except Val had seen the photo straight away and called Angel to the studio to shout at him. 

Angel hated it when the pimp yelled at him – Valentino had an almost perfect record of hitting on Angel’s every single insecurity when he was mad. The words “moron”, “slut” and “airhead” had been tossed around a lot – nothing Angel wasn’t used to, but it still hurt. 

He sighed as he flopped back into his vanity chair. He could really use a drink, but there was no way Husk was going to serve him at six in the morning, and he was pretty sure the cat had been heading to bed anyway. 

Angel drummed his fingers on his countertop as he realized that maybe he should’ve asked what Husk was doing outside covered in blood at six in the morning. He wondered if he should be disturbed that he hadn’t found anything unusual about that until right now. 

He reached for his phone, panicking for a moment when it wasn’t in his pocket, then cursing when he realized he must’ve left it on the lobby couch. So much for having time for a shower. He headed back down the steps, locking his gaze onto the abandoned pink phone case immediately and snatching it up. About to hurry back upstairs to get changed, Angel paused as he heard voices coming from around the corner, echoing out of one of the hotel lobby’s alcoves. 

“….Rather disappointing.” Alastor’s voice. He didn’t sound too happy – then again, the response from Husk wasn’t full of rainbows either. 

“Look, the fuckin’ guy had a kid with him,” Husk said, “I wasn’t about to rip his head from his body in front of it. The missing limbs will be warning enough.” 

“Yes, Husker, but limbs grow back in Hell,” Alastor growled. “Thus rendering my warning completely ineffectual! Not to mention that is not what I sent you to do.” 

“Fuckin’ whatever.” 

Angel heard the sound of Husk’s paws padding towards where he was camping out to listen, and he quickly scurried back to tuck himself behind the stairs so he wouldn’t be seen eavesdropping. The click of Alastor’s shoes followed along moments later. 

“I haven’t released you from this conversation.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m releasin’ myself. I gotta headache bigger than that fuckin’ ego of yours, I’m gonna go lay down.” 

There was a pause, and even though Angel couldn’t quite see the other two demons, he could still feel the irritation crackling off Alastor. Finally, after another tense moment, the Radio Demon let out a sigh. “Very well, go and sleep it off. But we aren’t done here.” 

“Yeah, yeah. We never are.” 

Angel waited before both pairs of footsteps faded to a reasonable distance away before going to the stairs to head back up to his room. He frowned, walking slowly as he thought. He’d known Husk and Alastor had some sort of demon deal between each other, but he’d never really seen what it entailed – in some ways, what he’d witnessed reminded him of himself and Val, and that thought made his fur stand on end. 

He jumped as his phone alarm went off. Late again. Fuck. 

\--- 

_“ ‘That’s not what I sent you to do,’ “ Anthony mimed the gruff voice of his father, using his hand to make the motion of a mouth talking, “ ‘You don’t need to be hangin’ ‘round that queer bar so much, as soon as they’ve paid up, leave!’ “ He laughed, pouring a martini out of a shaker and into a glass, sliding it along the bar he stood behind, grinning when he accepted the tip that was handed to him, “Old man thinks I’m gettin’ all this extra scratch by muggin’ ya lot afta your dance numbas or whateva.”_

_“Ain’t ya worried he’ll find out ya been workin’ the bar every other night?” Joey frowned at him from his barstool. “Can’t imagine he’d be too happy ‘bout that.”_

_“Eh,” Anthony shrugged, “He’s too busy worryin’ about Johnny’s welcome back party or whateva. He don’t care what I do. Though he might care if he found out who I do,” he winked at Joey, and the other man rolled his eyes. “But he ain’t gonna find out. S’fine.”_

_“Okay, if ya sure.” Joey stood up, turning to go, and Anthony frowned._

_“Yo, where ya goin’? Night’s young, hot stuff, ya ain’t gonna stay a while?”_

_“I gotta go get ready, Sal’s finally lettin’ me in on the floor show tonight,” Joey said. “I’ll be back later. Or, Lucinda will be back later.” He winked at Anthony, the smile dropping when the younger man shot him a blank look. “You know, the drag show?”_

_Anthony cocked his head, still unsure. “Drag? Ya mean ya gonna like…race cars or some shit?”_

_“No, ya ding dong,” Joey said. “It’s the – oh, it’ll just be easier to show ya. Hey, Sal! Anthony’s takin’ a break!”_

_“Whatever!” The gruff voice shouted back from the back of the club, and Joey grabbed Anthony’s arm. “C’mon.”_

_Anthony let Joey drag him out of the Blue Parrott, across the street to Joey’s postage stamp of an apartment. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the dress mannequin leaning against one dingy wall, raising them even further as Joey snatched a long, brunette wig from another dress dummy nearby, holding it up._

_“Look, this is drag,” Joey said, pointing to himself. “Joey.” He carefully put the brunette wig on his head, tossing the false brunette locks, “Lucinda. ‘Course, you don’t need another name if ya don’t want one but it’s kinda more fun for me that way.”_

_Anthony stared at him, unsure what he was feeling. “Ya mean ya gonna… dress up like a dame?”_

_“And sing and dance,” Joey nodded. “S’fun. You should try it.”_

_Anthony folded his arms. “I ain’t a chick.”_

_“So?” Joey raised his own eyebrows. “Do I look like a chick to ya? I can tell ya from experience, Tony, that wearin’ a girdle doesn’t make ya dick fall off. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’ to look nice.”_

_Anthony unfolded his arms, admittedly a little curious. Despite his outward protests, he knew he would probably end up trying it. For most of his life he’d been jealous of whenever Molly got new dresses, though he could never quite place why. Realization began to fit together in his brain as he nodded slowly. “I’ll come watch ya tonight and then maybe… but it’s a solid maybe, got that?”_

_“We’ll see,” Joey chuckled._

\----- 

Angel hummed to himself as he kicked open the hotel door later that afternoon, still wearing his wig and makeup from the shoot he’d been working on. He was exhausted, but in a fairly good mood – for some reason, Val seemed to be in a better mood when he’d returned to work. He knew whatever made the pimp happy probably couldn’t be good, but he also knew better than to question it. Better to just accept the easy work day and leave it at that. 

He paused as he spotted the empty bar. It was too early for Husk to be behind it yet, leaving it temptingly open. Angel glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, but the lobby appeared to be completely abandoned. 

He let himself behind the counter, sighing as he realized all the good stuff was behind the liquor cage and locked. Of course it was – Husk was way too anal to slip up and leave it unlocked. Angel turned to go, rolling his eyes at the haphazard system the bartender seemed to have with his mixers and other bottles – they were all randomly shoved everywhere. 

Putting his lower hands on his hips, Angel reached for the top shelf with his upper ones, meaning to try and rearrange the top shelf into some kind of sense. He didn’t get the chance as a furry paw gripped his wrist and he looked down to see Husk raising an eyebrow at him. 

“If anyone could find a way to get drunk off mixers I’d say it’s you, Legs,” Husk said, “But I’d prefer if ya didn’t mess up my system while you’re tryin’ it.” 

“I wasn’t tryin’ to get drunk,” Angel said indignantly, ignoring the fact that was completely a lie, “And what system?! How d’ya even find anythin’ in there, it’s all shoved in all crazy!” 

“Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not a system.” 

Angel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whateva, I was just tryin’ to help but fine, I’ll leave ‘em alone.” 

“Good.” Husk leaned against the back of the bar, folding his arms, watching to make sure Angel actually let himself out from behind the counter. 

Angel started to walk away, then paused, coming back to the bar. “Hey, Husky?” 

“I’m not sneakin’ you booze, Angel.” 

The spider shook his head, “Nah, I just wanted ta ask… is – is everythin’ okay wit’ you an Al?” 

Husk obviously hadn’t been expecting to be asked that and he froze, his tail flicking around his ankles. “That’s –“ 

“None a’ my business, I know the routine,” Angel huffed, “Just askin’.” 

Husk stared at Angel for a minute, then bent to unlock the liquor cage, pulling out the ingredients for a martini. “You like ‘em dry, right?” 

Angel blinked curiously, then grinned, easing himself onto a stool. “Well if ya offerin’, I ain’t gonna say no.” 

“Just don’t tell the princess.” 

“Oh, Husky, you should know by now I ain’t a snitch.” 

Husk placed the glass down in front of Angel, “…So… a wig, eh?” 

“Yeah, her name’s Doris,” Angel teased, tossing the locks back, “Y’like?” Husk shrugged, but that didn’t deter Angel from continuing talking, “Had a drag shoot today and I didn’t feel like takin’ her off and puttin’ her away an’ stuff ‘til I got back here…” he ran his finger around the rim of his glass, still not taking a sip, “I like drag shoots. They make me feel… I dunno… pretty, I guess. Well, pretti-er.” 

He finally raised the martini glass to his mouth, looking at Husk. “Y’ever try it?” 

Husk blinked at him. “Try what? Drag?” Angel nodded, and Husk shook his head frantically, “Of course not.” 

Angel laughed, “Don’t get ya fur in a twist babe, s’not like drag is a kink thing or anythin’. You should try it sometime, you’d look cute.” 

“I doubt that.” 

“Aw, c’mon,” Angel said, “I ain’t met a fella yet who doesn’t look good in drag. ‘Sides…” he leaned seductively over the bar, “The ones who are the most resistant to it at first are always the ones who look the most hot.” 

Husk groaned, “How do I always end up in these conversations with you?” 

Angel shrugged, smiling a little over the rim of his glass, “Just lucky, I guess.” 

\--- 

_“How do I always end up letting you talk me into these things?” Anthony asked, holding a blonde wig in one hand and a brunette one in the other, standing in the center of Joey’s apartment, staring at himself in the mirror._

_“Just lucky, I guess,” Joey smirked. “C’mon, do the blonde one, it’ll go good with the pink.”_

_Anthony obliged, having to admit Joey was right – he wore a pink dress ending just above the knee, the look pulled together with shining black heels – the blonde wig did make him look cute._

_“Whaddya think?” Anthony asked, doing a twirl, and Joey cupped his head, pulling him in for a kiss._

_“Adorable. Now c’mon, you haven’t given me an answer yet, ya gonna do the show tomorrow or not? S’kinda a big deal that Sal asked ya.”_

_“He only asked me ‘cause I’m the mob boss’ son,” Anthony muttered, “He don’t wanna get on my bad side.”_

_“So?”_

_Anthony rolled his eyes. “Nothin’. I’ll… think about it, but Johnny’s comin’ home that night so I prolly hafta be there. They’re plannin’ a big party and everythin’.”_

_“What time’s the party?” Joey asked. “Show’s over at eight!”_

_“I told ya I’d think about it,” Anthony frowned, “Stop pushin’ me.”_

_“C’mon, babe,” Joey snaked his arms around Anthony from behind, “That family of yours prolly wouldn’t notice ya missin’ anyway –“_

_Anthony growled a little, shoving himself away from Joey, folding his arms. “I said stoppit.”_

_Now it was Joey’s turn to roll his eyes, “Fine. I was just tryin’ ta help, ya don’t gotta be so sensitive.”_

_“I ain’t sensitive, I just –“ Anthony let out a sigh. “I should go. Need some space.”_

_“Yeah, ya probably do,” Joey said, and Anthony flinched as the door slammed behind him._

\---- 

“Huh?” Angel glanced up, pulled out of his foggy memory, to find Husk staring at him. 

“I said do you want another one or are you cool if I close down the bar for now,” Husk said. “Technically I don’t gotta be here for another four hours.” 

“Oh, uh… nah, I’m good,” Angel said, “Thanks for the drink, Husky.” He reached for his phone, flicking it off silent and frowning at the messages. 

“Everythin’ okay?” Husk asked. 

Angel nodded, letting out a little laugh. “Overlords. Such dicks, am I right?” 

Husk shrugged. “Wouldn’t know about that.” 

Angel flicked through his messages, a little disappointed that Husk didn’t want to talk about whatever had happened with Alastor that morning – he had to admit he was curious. His mouth pulled into a deeper frown as he read what Val had sent. “Ugh… damn, and I thought I looked pretty too. Guess he didn’t like my makeup game or somethin’…” 

Husk started to put the glasses away, glancing back at Angel. “Considerin’ all the shit that guys say to you all day long, I’m surprised that bugs ya. Wouldn’t have pegged ya for the sensitive sort.” 

Angel felt his eye twitch. “I ain’t sensitive! The fuck, why does everyone keep sayin’ that? Shit, if ya had to go through what I go through every day, you’d go to pieces first, I can guarantee ya that!” 

“Doubtful,” Husk snorted, “You don’t know anything about me, either, Angel –“ 

“It ain’t my fault ya don’t like talkin’ about shit!” 

Husk growled, “That’s ‘cause I don’t like forcing other people to listen to me whine about my problems –“ 

“Oh, so it’s whinin’ now, is it, ya hairy piece o’ –“ 

“Angel, you’re back! Good!” Charlie’s happy voice rang through the lobby as the princess headed over to them, a folder in her hands, apparently unaware of the uncomfortable tension mounting between Angel and Husk. “Are you ready for the hike this evening?” 

Angel stared at her. “The wha?” 

“The hike!” Charlie gestured to the calendar hanging just outside of the bar, with the day circled in glittery ink, reading ‘Nature Therapy Day’. “Vaggie and Niffty are already ready! I don’t think Alastor’s coming…” 

Angel winced. “Ah, fuck, I forgot. Listen, princess, the thing is, I had a long ass day, and I kinda ain’t up for –“ He paused as he swore he heard a scoffing sound from Husk, “You gotta problem, asshole?” 

“No,” Husk said, “Just kinda funny with all the smoke you’ve been blowing about whatever it is you ‘put up with’” he flexed his claws in air quotes, “It’s only a hike that takes you down.” 

“Fine!” Angel said after a moment, “I’ll go on the stupid thing. Can’t be any worse than work. Just lemme go change, ChaCha.” A dangerous smirk crossed his face, “It’ll be good, anyway, since Husky here’s been complainin’ about not gettin’ outside enough…” 

“You have?” Charlie turned wide eyes on him, “Then you should come too! Fresh air can do wonders, really! We have plenty of room!” 

“Uh –“ 

“Unless you think you can’t _handle_ it,” Angel raised his eyebrows at the cat, putting his hands on his hips, and Husk growled. 

“Fuckin’ whatever,” Husk said, folding his arms. “A hike ain’t nothin’. I’ll meet you guys out front.” 

Angel chuckled to himself as Charlie’s excited squeal followed him out of the room. 

Once he was in his own room, he removed the wig from his head, going to put it on his dress dummy, pausing as he held the blonde locks in his hands. 

\--- 

_Anthony stood in his bedroom, staring down at the blonde wig he had in his hands. There was a knock at the door and he jumped a mile, quickly shoving the wig under his pillow before his mother opened the door and stepped in._

_“Tony, our guests are gonna be here soon, can ya run out and get some milk? I’d send Molly but I need her in the kitchen.”_

_“Sure, Ma,” Anthony said, “Ah… might need to take a quick detour though, gotta pick up the ‘insurance’ money from the Blue Parrott for Pops tonight.”_

_Maria’s eyes narrowed curiously. “Didn’t ya just stop there on Monday? Why d’ya gotta go again? S’only Friday.”_

_“Ah… Pops… doubled it,” Anthony lied. He knew Maria didn’t give that much of a shit about what money her husband gathered from where, and his gamble paid off as she shrugged her shoulders. “Fine, but be back before Johnny gets here, yeah? I wanna make sure his brother’s here to greet him!”_

_“Sure thing,” Anthony promised, already eyeing the clock. It would be tight, but he could do it. “I won’t let ya down.”_

_\---_

_“I knew ya wouldn’t let me down,” Joey grinned as Anthony sat in their makeshift ‘dressing room’ backstage, essentially just a cracked mirror propped on a radiator. “I already told a whole buncha guys to look out for ya, you’re famous already!”_

_“Yeah, yeah,” Anthony said, putting another swipe of eyeliner just to be sure, “Just make sure I’m outta here by eight o’clock on the dot, no later. I can’t be fuckin’ late for this comin’ home party.” He straightened up, looking down at himself, fluffing out the glittering skirts of the dress he wore. “My seams straight?”_

_“Yeah, they’re the only thing about you that are,” Joey teased, ears perking up as the strains of bandstand music reached them, “That’s your cue! Go, go!”_

_Anthony had to admit, he liked performing. The drag was just one part of it, he liked feeling pretty, of course, but he especially liked the attention and adoration paid to him - he never got anything like that at home, except sometimes from Molly, and even then, it wasn’t the same as having actual fans screaming your name._

_He finished his first number to thunderous applause, and was about to reset himself for the second, a singing number, when the sounds of scuffling and banging came from the bar area upstairs. There was a clanging, a bang of a door being thrown open, and then Sal burst in from the secret staircase._

_“We’ve been busted!” He yelled, “Everybody –“_

_Sal’s warning came too late. Police officers thundered down the stairs, shoving him out of the way. “This is a raid – nobody move!”_

_There was immediate panic and pandemonium as the club-goers raced for exits, bottle-necking at the stairs. Anthony ducked through people, searching frantically for Joey, his blood going cold as he realized the other man was currently grappling with a cop._

_“Hey!” Anthony shoulder-checked the cop as hard as he could, making him let go of Joey – unfortunately, he didn’t see the officer’s partner come up behind until it was too late, hissing as he took a punch right in the side of the head. He stumbled, dizzied, and the cops managed to haul him up together. He struggled, but the police had a strong hold on him, and were pretty soon able to get him in handcuffs. Anthony looked frantically around, just barely catching sight of Joey disappearing up the stairs. His heart sank._

_“You’re under arrest,” The cop who’d punched him said, starting to drag him towards the exit, muttering. “Fuckin’ fag…”_

_Anthony stopped struggling - he knew there was nothing else he could do. He was well and truly fucked._

\--- 

_I’m fucked_ , Angel thought as he stared up at the craggy, mountainous hillside Charlie’s limo had dropped them off at. Normally he had a lot of stamina, but he was operating on two hours’ sleep and a full day of work behind him at that. He glanced over at Husk, who looked unimpressed at the hiking path Charlie was laying out for them. Didn’t matter – Husk thought he was weak, huh? Well, he’d show the stupid cat. 

Vaggie looked critically down at the tall black thigh-high heels Angel still wore. “You’re seriously going hiking in those?” 

“I’ve done a lot worse in these, suga,” Angel winked at her, getting an eyeroll and a scoff from Vaggie. He didn’t miss the scoff from Husk, either. 

“Hey, I doubt you could do this in heels,” Angel said. 

“I doubt you can, either,” Husk shot back. “You’ll be complainin’ about ‘em before we’re halfway done and askin’ to go home.”

“Oh yeah?” Angel folded his arms. “I betcha I can do the whole thing in these, plus some – all the way to the top, and all the way back down. If I’m right, ya gotta wear my heels to tend bar tonight.” 

“That’s a damn sucker bet,” Husk said, “You’ll be complainin’ before the first mile is up. You’re on.” 

“Deal.” 

“Hey guys!” Charlie was waving to them from where she excitedly stood on a rocky outcropping, “C’mon! We don’t want to miss the sunset, I hear it’s beautiful up here!” 

Angel used all four arms to gesture to Husk in mock politeness, “After you.” 

Husk growled, hopping up the rocks to walk alongside Charlie. Angel sighed as he followed after them. His feet hurt already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Men. These two are such disasters. Also do you know how hard it is not to accidentally write Angel instead of Anthony??


	4. Chapter 4

Husk gritted his teeth as Angel Dust opened his mouth to ask yet another question. When he’d made the bet with Angel, he should’ve stipulated that the spider shut up for the entire hike as well. Too late now, and Husk was seriously regretting it as Angel babbled on and on, asking question after question without really waiting for an answer. Which was good, since Husk wasn’t giving him any. 

“We hit a mile yet?” 

Husk did turn his head slightly to look at Angel for that question, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Does that sound suspiciously like the beginning of a complaint?” 

“Fuck no,” Angel said, “Was just curious how far we were goin’. That’s all. They don’t seem to be slowin’ down yet.” 

Husk followed Angel’s gaze to Charlie and Vaggie who were walking hand in hand a good twenty feet ahead of them. He wouldn’t be too surprised if Charlie was speeding up intentionally to leave him and Angel together so they would be able to “get along better”. Sometimes the blonde was too smart for her own good. 

“We just passed a quarter of a mile marker,” Husk grumped. “And we’re not even close to the halfway point yet. Why?” His eyes drifted down to Angel’s heels, “Starting to regret your footwear?” 

“No,” Angel said petulantly, falling blissfully silent for a few minutes. Husk finally felt like he could breathe, reveling in the silence – until Angel started singing to himself.  


“The ants go marching one by one… hurrah… hurrah… the ants go – hey, I’ve never seen an ant demon, isn’t that weird? They got all kindsa weird shit down here, ya’d think – although, I heard ants can lift a hundred times their own weight, I wonder if that’s the same if it’s an ant demon? Probably, right? I mean I got these fuckin’ jumpin’ legs but –“  


Husk groaned as Angel babbled on, reaching up and squishing his ears to his head in an attempt to drown out the spider. Why couldn’t Angel just shut up. Shut up, _shut up_ – 

\--- 

_“Will you shut the fuck up?” Lt. Husk turned to snarl at the column of soldiers marching behind him. They were supposed to be moving supplies up the trail today, but between the extreme heat of the jungle and constant rain showers, they’d barely moved a mile. Finally, the sun coming out gave them a chance to make a bit of headway, but as the soldiers’ spirits rose, so did their voices._

_First had been an argument about which was better pizza, New York or Chicago style, and had quickly moved on to an argument involving the Yankees versus the Cubs, the most vocal proponent for the Yankees being Private Sanderson._

_Initially Husk had been content to allow the conversation – comradery between soldiers could only be a good thing – but as they grew more confident and the voices got louder, he started becoming painfully aware of the thick jungle around them that could just as easily be hiding enemy soldiers. The last thing he wanted was an ambush attack._

_“Just shut up,” He said again._

_“Aw, c’mon,” Sanderson said, giving him that crooked smile that Lt. Husk had learned meant he was in a pretty good mood – and in a mood for joking. “We haven’t seen anyone for three days!”_

_“All the more reason to keep it down,” Husk said. “For all we know, they’ve been tracking us the whole time. No more talking ‘til we get to the next post, got it?”_

_Sanderson pouted, “That’s another day’s march away!”_

_“Consider it a personal challenge, then, chatterbox,” Husk said, turning away from him. The faint sound of something whistling through the air was the only warning he got before pain exploded in his shoulder, the panicked screams of his men alerting him to Vietnamese soldiers surging out of the jungle, surrounding them, bullets screaming overhead._

_“Take cover!” Husk shouted, one hand gripping at his injured shoulder, “Now – augh!” He stumbled as another bullet grazed his thigh, falling to his hands and knees and trying to disappear into the long grass. Heavy thumps as bodies fell around him, soldiers from both sides hitting the dirt._

_His eyes met Sanderson’s through the heavy foliage – the boy’s face was covered in blood, but he was very much alive, his eyes wild and panicked. Everything suddenly went very quiet. No more screams or shouted orders in both languages, no more bullets flying. The swish of boots through long grass, and then someone was prodding Husk, hard, in the back with the butt of a rifle. An enemy soldier standing over him, gesturing for him to get up._

_Husk did so, watching Sanderson do the same out of the corner of his eye. Nobody else stood – their entire platoon, decimated. It was only him and the private, surrounded by Viet Cong soldiers pointing weapons at them._

_There was nothing else to do. Husk raised his arms in surrender._

\--- 

“—Cockroaches, beetles, moths, I even saw a tick demon once – I wonder if they still have Lyme disease down here? Probably not, right – anyway, wasps, tarantulas –“  


Angel Dust was still talking. Husk didn’t know what came over him – it was like his mind wasn’t in control of his body anymore as he crossed the distance between himself and Angel. 

“I said shut up!” Husk roared, his left fist connecting with Angel’s cheek, causing the taller demon to lose his balance and stagger ass-backward into the dirt. Angel sat there, stunned, blinking a few times before his face darkened dangerously. 

Husk didn’t even have time to process what was happening before Angel leapt and tackled him around the middle, knocking them both back to the ground. 

Husk twisted, jabbing an elbow up in order to get Angel off of him, but the spider was giving as good as he got, landing his own punch square into Husk’s shoulder as they grappled together in the dust.

Up ahead, Charlie glanced back, her eyes widening at the sight of the two men fighting on the ground. “Omigosh – stop! You guys, stop!!” She ran over to them, her hands hovering over the two as if considering pulling them apart but thinking better of it. She shrieked as a misplaced kick from Angel’s heeled boot came flying towards her face, Vaggie yanking her arm and grabbing her out of the way before she was hit. 

“Hey!” Vaggie shouted, her voice sharp, “What the hell do you think you two are doing?! You almost hit Charlie, you assholes! Stop it before I kick both of your asses right back down this hill!” 

At that, Angel finally used the advantage of his multiple arms to heave Husk off him, rolling over and climbing to his knees, and then his feet, uselessly trying to brush the dirt off his fur. Husk looked away as he got to his own feet, ashamed and embarrassed. He had no idea what had come over him, and he didn’t like that. It scared him. 

“What on earth is going on?” Charlie demanded breathlessly. “One minute you two are fine, the next minute I turn around and you’re beating each other up?!” 

“Each other?” Angel frowned, “More like blame him!” He pointed at Husk, “He’s the one who just punched me outta nowhere! You can’t be expectin’ me not to fight back when someone jumps ya like that!” 

“That doesn’t sound like Husk…” Charlie said, biting her lip, “Husk, are you alright? Is everything okay?” 

Husk turned slightly away from her, his wings fluttering in irritation. “It’s nothing. M’fine.” 

Vaggie folded her arms. “Nobody attacks someone else just out of nowhere. What did you say to him, Angel?” 

“Me?” Angel’s eyes widened in indignation, hurt flitting across his features. “I didn’t do anythin’!” 

Charlie let out a long sigh. “Maybe we should call it a day, then. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but… physical fighting is unacceptable. We’ll turn around… try again another day.” 

“Fine by me,” Angel huffed. “I didn’t even wanna come on this dumb hike anyway.” He turned around, taking one step before his left leg wobbled and he let out a hiss of pain, his lower arms going down towards his ankle. 

“Oh no,” Charlie bit her lip, “Angel, did you twist your ankle in the fight?” 

“It’s fine, toots,” Angel said, “I’ve had way worse. I’m sure I can make it back down, at least.” Another step, another pained hiss, Angel almost falling to his knee this time. 

“No, no,” Charlie walked over to the spider, pulling his arm over her shoulder to support him as she pulled him over to a rock to sit down. “You aren’t making it back down on that foot. Husk, any chance you could fly him back down?” 

Angel barked a laugh. “If ya think I’m lettin’ him touch me after all that, you’re crazy, sweetheart.” 

Husk folded his arms with a frown, but didn’t say anything. Angel did actually have a point, there. 

“We’ll just have to get the car,” Vaggie said. 

“All the way up here?” Charlie worried at her lip, “It’ll take at least an hour to get back down…” 

“And you aren’t going by yourself,” Vaggie said. “The last thing we need is for you to sprain your ankle too and nobody to know where you are. I’ll come with you.” She turned to Angel and Husk, pointing at them. “You two, sit on opposite sides of this path and try not to piss each other off until we come back. C’mon, hun.” She put an arm around Charlie, the two heading off down the descending path. 

Husk scuffed his way over to a rock outcropping opposite from Angel, leaning against it. His shoulder throbbed where Angel had landed his punch – the kid had a mean left hook. Guilt gnawed at Husk as he glanced over at the spider, who was pointedly not looking at him. What had come over him? Charlie was right, it wasn’t like him to just randomly attack people. Something about Angel’s incessant talking had been too much – like flies buzzing in his brain, activating some long-forgotten fear that he couldn’t quite place. Still, that didn’t excuse his behavior. 

He sighed, wrapping his arms around himself as he closed his eyes. Why had he let Angel needle him into coming on this hike? He needed a drink, badly, and it was going to be hours until he’d be able to get one now. He could fly away, back to the hotel, but he didn’t feel like having to deal with Charlie’s disappointed face or Vaggie’s wrath if they learned he left the injured Angel alone on top of a mountain. He squeezed his eyes tighter, willing the need to drink to go away. He supposed if it became really bad, he could try to summon Alastor, but it probably wouldn’t be worth it. It was never worth it. 

\--- 

_“Are you sure it’s worth it?” Sanderson asked nervously, huddled in one corner of the poorly-built hut. His eyes were sunken into his gaunt face, his ragged military uniform hanging off his frame. Lt. Husk was sure he didn’t look much better, but that’s what six months of constantly being on the edge of starvation in an enemy prisoner camp would do to you._

_“It’ll be worth it,” He assured the private as he pulled the small radio from where he’d been hiding it in his jacket. They’d had a stroke of amazing luck that day as the usual camp guards were pulled away from their usual duties by a skirmish nearby, leaving only a skeleton crew of new and inexperienced soldiers. The sudden emptiness of the usually crowded camp had allowed Husk to slip into the officers’ quarters and swipe a radio. If he could send even one communication to any US forces that might be listening, he would consider that a victory._

_Sanderson’s apprehension was understandable, though. If they were caught, there was no telling what might happen. Other captured soldiers in the camp had mentioned something about a hook that non-compliant prisoners were tied to and dangled from the ceiling for hours. That had been in the first month – after that, those soldiers were taken somewhere and Husk hadn’t seen them again._

_Voices shouted from outside the hut – the guards were back. Sanderson’s eyes widened, and gestured at Husk frantically – he carefully put the radio against the corner of the hut, pulling up the flat reed mat that served as a bed to hide it. Just in time, as the head officer stepped into the doorway, looking down at them critically before pointing at them and gesturing for them to follow him._

_When they returned hours later at nightfall, it was with fresh bruises, tears, and limps. Husk watched as Sanderson collapsed onto his mat and curled into himself, suddenly remembering how young the guy was. Drafted as soon as he could be, probably not older than nineteen or twenty at this point, considering how long they’d been out in the jungle._

_Quite frankly, Husk was beginning to worry about the kid. He was fading fast under the pressures of the prison camp, and it would only take one more good blow for him to finally crack for good. That was why Husk had risked stealing the radio in the first place. Just one well-timed transmission to the right people could get them out. He didn’t particularly care about himself – he didn’t have a family to go back to, nowhere he particularly called home – the Army was it. But Sanderson… he was young, had a whole life ahead of him, and he didn’t deserve to spend it here._

_He waited until late at night, when the camp had quieted to just the buzz of insects in the long grass surrounding them, Sanderson’s labored breathing around his broken ribs breaking the silence of the hut. Carefully, slowly, as if the slightest motion would wake the guards and bring them running, Husk retrieved the radio and turned it on, trying to tune it to a frequency while lowering the volume of the static, holding the small receiver to his mouth._

_“Hello – if anyone is listening, if anyone can hear me. This is Lieutenant Jim Husker, US Army, 65th Division… being held with other US soldiers in an undisclosed location southeast of Da Nang… poor conditions, torture likely imminent.” He paused, but there was nothing except the crackling of the radio signals. He decided to try again. “Hello. If anyone is listening…”_

_After about four or five times in a row, he set the radio back down, switching it off. All he could do was hope someone had heard it. He’d try again tomorrow night._

_Husk curled on his mat, falling into an exhausted sleep, not noticing how the previously off radio had switched itself back on. In his dreams, he swore he heard jazz music._

\--- 

“This better not count as me complainin’ or not makin’ it,” Angel groused from his rock, causing Husk to look at him. 

“What?” 

“You knockin’ me over. It wasn’t my fault, so our bet’s still on even though I didn’t make it to the top. I mean, I still win. Right? It’s your fault I didn’t make it.” 

Husk stared at him. “ _That’s_ what you’re thinking about right now?” 

“So now you’re gonna judge what I choose to think about?” 

Husk groaned. “Are you just constantly looking for a fight, or what?” 

“You’re one to talk. You’re the one who socked me outta nowhere.” 

There was that twist of guilt again. “I’m…” Husk shook his head, then got up, crossing to Angel, who watched him move suspiciously. “Let me see it.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your ankle, numbskull, I wanna see your ankle.” 

Angel pulled his legs closer to himself, wrapping his lower arms protectively around them. “…Why?” 

“So I can see if it’s swelling. I can wrap it, if it is.” 

Angel scoffed. “I meant what I said ‘bout ya not touchin’ me after that shitshow. I’d rather wait for Vaggie and ChaCha, thanks. ‘Sides, how do I know ya just won’t make it worse or somethin’?” 

Husk snorted. “I’ve taken care of way worse in the field. A sprained ankle isn’t nothin’ compared to a gunshot wound. But fine, have it your way, we’ll just wait. I won’t touch ya.”  
He turned back to his rock, plopping back down, wondering if Vaggie and Charlie had made it back down yet and how long he’d be stuck sitting here. 

Yet again, Angel was the one to break the silence. “So. Shell shock, is it?” 

Stunned, Husk could only fumble for words. “You – how did –“ 

Angel stretched his arms over his head, still talking, but not bothering to actually look at Husk. “Didn’t know ya were a soldier ‘til what ya said just now. ‘Bout bein’ in the field. Everythin’ kinda makes more sense.” One lower arm reached down, picking at a few pebbles, tossing them across the path. “My pop had that. Fought in the trenches in the Great War. Guess they call it somethin’ else now… whatsit… Post-Traumatic somethin’?” He let out a hollow laugh, “Always kinda wondered if that’s what made him how he was… if he was a different person before.” He finally looked at Husk, his mis-matched eyes piercing and searching. “Were you a different person before?” 

Husk blinked a little at the surprisingly deep question, his fur bristling and wings raising in discomfort. “I dunno.” 

“Yeah, guess we never know, do we.” Angel went back to tossing pebbles. “Pop had certain triggers, loud noises was one of ‘em. He’d put on a big show if there was a gun fight or somethin’, pretend it diddn’t bother him, but guaranteed you’d find him at the bottom of a bottle on Fourth o’ July, tryin’ to pretend the fireworks weren’t happenin’.” 

Husk let out a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry I hit you, Angel. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Angel agreed, tossing a pebble over so it brushed Husk’s foot. “But I’m guessin’ I triggered ya somehow, like how the fireworks triggered Pop. If ya tell me what it is, I can make sure I don’t do it. Or try, anyways.” 

“Eh,” Husk said. How could he say it was just Angel’s talking that had made him snap? The spider never shut up, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask him not to talk around Husk just because he couldn’t hold his shit together. “I guess I dunno. I dunno what it was. Sorry, though.” 

Angel watched him as if he didn’t quite believe that, but shrugged his shoulders anyway. “Well lemme know if ya think of it. This might surprise ya but I’m not actually out ta make ya uncomfortable all the time. Even if ya don’t like me.” 

Husk raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think I don’t like you?” 

“Seriously?” Angel said. “You’re always tellin’ me to fuck off, like not in the cute playful way, ya mean it. You’re always talkin’ shit ‘bout me, tryna piss me off on purpose, tellin’ me my life ain’t hard and to stop whinin’…” 

Husk shifted uncomfortably as his own behavior was thrown back at him. Again, Angel had a point. 

“I don’t… dislike you. I just…” Husk frowned as he tried to piece together what he was trying to say. “Ya remind me of someone and sometimes I don’t wanna think about it. S’better to just not get close at all.” 

“I’m not tryin’ to get close to ya, I’d just like it if ya weren’t shittin’ on me all the time,” Angel huffed. “It ain’t that hard. I get it enough at work, and at least I get paid for that shit.”

“Right…” Husk tapped his rock with a claw, wondering if he should apologize again. He didn’t have a chance to make a decision, as the roar of an engine caught his attention. A moment later, Charlie’s limo carefully wound its way up the path, stopping in front of them. 

Charlie hopped out, her face creasing with worry when she glanced between them, it immediately smoothing out into one of satisfaction when she realized they weren’t about to beat each other into the dirt again. “Your chariot, your majesty!” She giggled to Angel, giving him a little bow before moving to help support him off the rock and over to the car. 

“Well, don’t some people just know how to treat a lady,” Angel batted his eyelashes, making Charlie laugh again as he slid into the back seat. 

“Husk, did you wanna ride with us or are you gonna fly?” Vaggie asked him out the car window. 

He hesitated, then got into the car, causing Vaggie to slide over. “I’ll ride.” He didn’t miss the delighted look on Charlie’s face. 

\--- 

It was later than Husk expected when they pulled up to the hotel. He didn’t remember if he’d left some note about joining the hike, and he was sure Alastor would be curious about why he wasn’t at his post. Well, whatever. That jerk didn’t need to know everything about him all the time. 

He followed as Charlie and Vaggie helped Angel into the lobby, pulling away as he flopped onto the couch, waving them away. “I’m fine, ladies, thanks for ya help. I’ll have Niffty grab me some ice or somethin’.” 

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Charlie said, twisting her hands, though she still had a smile, “Then Vaggie and I have some paperwork to do. Just call if you need anything!” 

They passed Husk as he practically fled to the bar, reaching for the first open bottle he found and chugging it like a man starving for water. 

“Does that help?” 

Husk swallowed, wiping droplets off his fur before turning to find Angel watching him. “You of all people oughtta know very well it don’t help as much as it should down here. Just takes the edge off, that’s all.” 

Angel hummed in understanding. “Yeah. That sucks.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind at the last minute, “Anyway. This sexy little spider’s off to bed.” He stood up, striding to the stairs. 

Husk stared at him, his jaw practically hitting the floor. There was no limp, no hiss of pain, nothing. “Were you faking spraining your ankle?!” Husk practically shrieked. 

Angel turned back to smirk at him. “Gee, guess not makin’ it to the top was my fault after all. S’okay. I didn’t want your gross cat feet in my heels anyway. Night night, Husky.” 

Husk shook his head as he watched Angel jog up the stairs. That kid was full of surprises. 

\--- 

_Sanderson was gone when Lt. Husk woke up. He sat up, looking frantically around, as if the private was going to magically appear in the empty hut. He stumbled out onto the campground, searching, but all he saw were unfamiliar faces._

_A group of soldiers he vaguely recognized from a neighboring platoon huddled together over bowls of rice, and he limped over to them. “Hey – hey, you guys see where the kid went? He diggin’ trenches or?”_

_They blinked up at him, grey-faced and dead-eyed. “Kid?” One of them muttered confusedly._

_“Yeah, Private Sanderson, young kid, no stripes, missin’ the left arm of his uniform,” Husk insisted._

_“Oh…” The other soldiers glanced at each other. “They took him this morning.”_

_“They?” Husk stared, wide-eyed. “Who they?”_

_“The officers. Said they’re takin’ him over to the Hanoi Hilton.” The soldier who’d spoke shook his head sadly. “Poor bastard. They torture you there. No one ever comes back. Couldn’t really make out what they were sayin’ about why they were bringin’ him there. Somethin’ about a radio?”_

_A wave of panic washed over Husk before it dispersed and he felt… nothing. Numb. He only managed to take three steps away from the other soldiers before he hit his knees, retching, his empty stomach heaving, too empty to even barf up acid._

_“Shit… shit… fucking shit…” He shouldn’t have stolen that fucking radio. What was he thinking?! And even if he did, he should’ve been the one taken… Sanderson, the young kid who liked the Yankees, who liked thin-crust pizza, who was too scared of being attacked in the night to bother taking his boots off, tortured and possibly killed because of him. He didn’t know what he could do, but he had to do something. Anything._

_It was difficult to wait for night to fall again. He went about the menial tasks he and the other soldiers went about the camp during the day, listening to his stomach growl and the guards shout to each other. When he was finally allowed back to his hut, he practically sprinted for it, tossing the mat aside and pulling out the radio again._

_“Hello – if anyone is listening, if anyone can hear me. This is Lieutenant Jim Husker, US Army, 65th Division, this is an urgent broadcast! I repeat, urgent! I repeat –“ He bowed his head, taking a shuddering breath, “If anyone is listening….”_

_“Oh, I think you’ll find that someone is always listening,” a voice said from behind him._

_Husk screamed, dropping the radio, scrambling back as he twisted to face who’d spoken. A tall man, dressed in red, stood on the opposite side of the hut, his eyes glowing. A shadow stretched far above him, a dark stain on the ceiling, despite the fact it should’ve been too dark for shadows._

_“What the fuck,” Husk whispered. “That’s it, I – I’ve starved to death, or – I’m about to starve to death, is that right? I’m hallucinating.”_

_The red-clad man took a few steps towards him, looking around the hut with interest. “What a dreadfully derelict place. No wonder you begged the radio for help. I’m afraid your other cohorts aren’t picking up any signals on this kind of radio. But not to worry. I heard you. And I’m here to help… for a price, of course.”_

_“Who the fuck are you?! I didn’t hear you – did the guards –“_

_The man snorted. “At the moment, I’m only manifesting myself to you. So, I suppose in a way, you were right about your hallucination, although I assure you I am very real. How rude of me not to introduce myself, though. Most have been calling me the Radio Demon, though I do also prefer Alastor. You would like to get out of here, wouldn’t you? I can offer you a deal.”_

_Husk had no idea what was going on, but the only thing on his mind was Sanderson. “No. No,” he said, waving a hand at the disappointed look on the man’s face, “I mean – yes, but – the private, please, I don’t know who the fuck you are or how you got here or if you’re even fuckin’ real or if it’s my brain freaking out but if you can do anything – anything at all – get him out of there.”_

_“How selfless,” Alastor raised his eyebrows. “Of course, it’s not beyond my power to get you both out.”_

_Husk felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Whatever. Get me out, don’t, but help him, please, get him out.”_

_“Do you not want to know the terms of the deal?”_

_“I don’t care what they are.”_

_Alastor barked a sharp laugh at that. “If only more were like you. Your name?”_

_“James Husker. People just call me Husk, though, s’like a nickname.”_

_“Mm. Fascinating.” Alastor snapped his fingers, a green glow surrounding them, and he held out his hand. “So. It’s a deal, then?”_


	5. Chapter 5

“Angel Dust, come back here! We still have to review the dailies before we can set up for your next scene!” 

“Fuck you with a cactus, ya fuckin’ _stu cazzo!”_ Angel spat at the director, shoving a poor tech assistant aside to grab a robe off the chair and yank it on. “I’m takin’ a break.” 

He ignored the protests shouted after him as he stormed off set and down the hall into the dressing room. He couldn’t act when he was angry, and boy was he. Goddamn Val. The pimp kept switching call sheets around on him without telling him, sending him into shoots he wasn’t ready for and making him look like an idiot. Back in the day when he’d done most of his movies completely high out of his mind, it wouldn’t have mattered as much. Now, when he was sober, it mattered a lot. 

He rooted around in his drawer, looking for a cigarette. What he wouldn’t give for a bump of something harder right now. He groaned, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes to try to make that thought go away. His mood didn’t improve when Val stepped through the door without bothering to knock, the look on his face already irritated. 

“Angie, we don’t have time for you to be a fuckin’ diva today,” Val said. “Get your ass back on that set right now.” 

Angel knew he shouldn’t talk back, but he was already in a defiant mood as he glared at his boss in the mirror. “I’m takin’ a break. Wouldn’t need to if someone had actually given me the right call sheet.” 

“That fuckin’ tech assistant –“ 

“Fuck off, Val, I know it was ya,” Angel sighed, feeling his sense of self-preservation dip even lower, “Ya do know I could get through these performances betta if ya actually told me the right thing I was doin’, right? I don’t have time for these weird mind games o’ yours.” He shook his head, checking his hair in the mirror before standing up, “Whateva, I’ll get back on –“ 

He jumped a little as he realized Val had crossed the space between them without him noticing, towering over him. “Maybe you’re right, Angel.” He placed a hand on the back of Angel’s neck, forcing him over to the door. 

“Val, wait, what –“ 

“Maybe you do need a little break. Yes, I think a little time away from here might be just the thing for you to _appreciate_ how good you have it here.” 

Angel wriggled under Val’s grasp, a tingle of fear going down his spine as he tried to figure out what the moth’s angle was. When the pimp got cold and calculated like this, it never meant anything good. Val wasn’t shoving him back toward the set, he was manipulating him to the stage door exit instead.

Once he shoved Angel outside into the alleyway next to the studio, Val let go, standing in the doorway, looking down at him. “Don’t come back until you can be a good boy. And maybe if you come crawling back like a good boy when you’re ready, I might not put you on street duty for a month. Now fuck off.” 

“But what about the movie?” Angel asked, confused, pulling his robe around him tighter as he realized that was the only thing he was wearing. 

Val looked down at him disinterestedly, as if Angel was a piece of lint he’d found in his pocket or something. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m sure it’ll be easy to find a replacement.” He turned to go back in, slamming the door in Angel’s face. 

“Shit…” Angel rubbed his arms – in a thin robe, it was fucking cold in the alley. He bit his lip, then pounded on the door. “C’mon, Val, I’m sorry! Open back up!” 

There was no answer, and Angel leaned against the wall, grumbling to himself. He could walk back to the hotel, but he didn’t really want to in just a robe. Still, it was starting to look like he had no choice. He could go back around to the front of the studio and beg Val to have some kind of mercy on him, but he didn’t want to do that either. The sound of footsteps coming around the alley put him on edge, and he reached for the knife in his boot. He wasn’t expecting Husk to come around the corner, carrying a paper bag in one claw. 

“…Husk?” Angel frowned, squashing the wave of confusion, “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Princess said you’d be workin’ late and told me to bring you food since she made extra tonight,” Husk said. “What’re ya doing in the alley?” 

“Just… none ‘a ya business,” Angel said, though there wasn’t any malice or annoyance behind his words this time. “Guess I’m done wit’ work for the night after all… I wouldn’t normally ask this, but… wouldja mind flyin’ me back to the hotel?” He gestured to his mostly naked body, “I’m kinda a free agent, here.” 

Husk’s ears flattened slightly, “Didn’t ya leave the hotel with clothes?” 

“Course I did, idiot,” Angel said, “Do ya think if I could get ‘em right now I’d be standin’ in this fuckin’ alley in this dumb robe?” 

“Right… here,” Husk thrust the bag at Angel. 

“I’m not really hungry right now.” 

“No, dumbass, hold it so I can pick you up,” Husk said. “You didn’t think you’d ride on my back or something, did you?” 

Angel hesitated, taking the bag, “…No?” 

Husk rolled his eyes, picking up Angel in a bridal carry. The spider smirked. “Aww. Gonna walk over the threshold with me, Husky?” 

“Shut up.” 

“And we’re back to the famous four phrases of Husk! Which others will we get tonight, I wonder?” 

“Careful, spider, or I’ll let go when we’re over the pointiest building I can find.” 

After a slightly bumpy lift-off due to the extra weight Husk was carrying, they were airborne. Angel clung to Husk with most of his arms – despite his joking around, he didn’t actually want to fall, and it had been a long time since he’d been this high up. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he had ever been this high up – they were soaring high over the tallest buildings in Pentagram City. 

“So,” Husk said, gliding on a wind current for a moment, “Why were you in the alley?” 

“Oh… it’s just…” Angel sighed, looking down at the lights from buildings twinkling up with them. It might almost be pretty if he didn’t have a good idea of the shit that was going on down there. “I was bein’ a bitch. Val kicked me out. Guess I gotta find some way to make it up to him tomorrow that doesn’t end up with me gettin’ my ass kicked…” 

“Why?” 

Angel frowned, looking up at Husk, but the cat’s eyes were firmly fixed on the horizon. “Because I don’t like getting my ass kicked ‘less I’m gettin’ paid for it?” 

“No,” Husk said, “I mean why do you keep going back to him.” 

“Same reason you keep goin’ back to Al, kitty,” Angel said. “Contracts are a bitch. But… besides the contract and all…” Angel let out a hollow laugh, “I guess he’s the only one I know will always _take_ me back, no matter what. How sad is that?” 

“What about the hotel and Charlie?” 

“Yeah, right, sure.” Angel stared down at the ground far below them. He could see the hotel in the distance – they were getting close now. “You’ll see. It’ll only be a matter of time ‘fore they get sick a’ tryin’ wit’ me and kick me out too. Everyone does, eventually. Well. When I’m not bound to them with a contract, anyway.” 

Husk’s feet hit cobblestone, and Angel climbed out of his arms, straightening up. “So really, if I’m annoyin’ ya, just think – ya just gotta wait it out, and I’ll prolly be gone. Anyways, thanks for the lift. I owe ya one.” He blew a kiss to Husk before sauntering back into the hotel. 

\--- 

_Anthony couldn’t remember a more silent car ride than the one he spent sitting in the passenger seat while his father drove him home from the police station.  
He didn’t dare try to say anything, not even when the car pulled up into the driveway and John turned the lights off. Through the window, Anthony could see people milling about in the living room holding drinks – the party for his brother had been going on for a while now. _

_“What the fuck am I supposed to say.” John wouldn’t even look at him. His eyes were fixed on the steering wheel. Anthony sat on his hands to stop them shaking._

_“I’m sorry I got arrested…”_

_“Arrested?” John barked a harsh laugh, “Arrested?! I don’t give a fuck about that! ‘Fact, I might even be proud a’ ya! But I gotta walk into that pig pen to find out my boy got done up for – public indecency? For playin’ around with some queers? If I told ya mother what ya were wearin’, she’d have a heart attack right on that kitchen floor and die, Tony.”_

_“Pop –“_

_“Get inside.” John’s voice changed. Darker. Harsher. Anthony moved for the door handle, only to be stopped by his father’s hand on his arm. “I ain’t done. Get inside. Get a bag. Get ya shit, and get out.”_

_Anthony stared at him, uncomprehending. “Eh? But –“_

_“Ya heard me, Tony. Don’t talk to no one. Get ya shit, and get out. If ya wanna be a fuckin’ fag, ya ain’t doin’ it under my roof.”_

_Anthony felt his chest tightening. He and his father hadn’t gotten along in the past, but John had never told him to straight up leave before. “But… Pops…” Anthony said softly, “I – I ain’t got nowhere to go.”_

_“That ain’t my problem.” John got out of the car, slamming the door so hard the car rocked, leaving Anthony in shock in the front seat._

\--- 

It was already gone midnight when Angel made his way back downstairs, clad in the baggiest pajamas he owned, Fat Nuggets under one arm. He’d spent the last few hours in his room refreshing his phone and trying not to fall into a pit of anxiety. He didn’t understand – Val hadn’t texted him. He’d told him to come back - crawling back, if he wanted to be accurate – when he was ready, but usually when Val did that sort of thing he texted at least a few hours later. 

Angel couldn’t believe he actually cared about silence from the moth. Generally it should be a good thing, but all it was doing was ramping up his stress. He didn’t have any cash left for a drink, and he’d run out of his emergency stash of hard stuff weeks ago. 

He stepped into the kitchen, rummaging around until he found a package of cookies, planning to stress eat. He had to do something, or else he felt like he was going to jump out a window. 

The front door opened and shut, and Angel paused his rummaging around in the cookie package, curious as to who was out that late at night. He froze when Husk scuffed in, one paw clutching at his shoulder. Husk froze too when he saw him, clearly not expecting anyone to be in there. 

“Um… cookie?” Angel offered, holding out the package, but the cat grunted and shook his head, going to the fridge instead and pulling it open. 

Fat Nuggets squealed to get down, and Angel set him on the floor, watching the little pig trot up to Husk and nudge his foot insistently. Husk glanced down. 

“What’s he want?” 

“He thinks ‘cause ya got the fridge open ya gonna give him a treat,” Angel said. “Well? Don’t leave the poor thing hangin’.” 

Husk frowned, but turned to the fridge and pulled out a piece of carrot, bending down to give it to the pig. “Spoiled brat.” 

“Aw, but he deserves to be spoiled, doesn’t he, yes he does,” Angel cooed, picking Fat Nuggets back up while his pet happily crunched on the carrot. 

Whatever Husk was looking for in the fridge, he didn’t seem to find it, because he slammed the door shut and slumped at the table, his paw still rubbing at his shoulder. 

“Y’alright?” Angel asked. 

He fully expected Husk to tell him it was none of his business or for him to fuck off, so he was surprised when Husk actually answered. “Fucked up my shoulder doin’ shit for Alastor tonight. Asshole fucked off to who-knows-where so I can’t even ask him to do his weird healing voodoo shit. Think I pulled a muscle in the wing joint or something…” 

Angel hesitated, then said, “I guess I do still owe ya one for givin’ me a ride earlier, ya want me ta give ya a massage?” He held his hands up at the suspicious look Husk gave him, “No happy endin’ required. I just don’t like owin’ people too long and…” he waved his four hands, “I ain’t too bad at it, either.” 

Angel could see the gears turning in Husk’s head, weighing the pros and cons of his offer, before finally leaning back, saying “fine” so softly the spider could barely hear it. 

“Okey dokey,” Angel moved around the back of Husk’s chair, cocking his head at the wings at the shoulder joints, before gently placing a hand where the two connected, “It hurts here?” 

Husk nodded, hissing as Angel suddenly dug his fingers into the spot. “Sorry. You’re right, it is fucked up. I just gotta work it out…” 

“You know you don’t actually hafta owe me,” Husk said after Angel had been working in silence, unknotting the muscle for a while. “You’re the one who decided that.” 

“Yeah, well…” Angel sighed, “I been burned more than once wit’ people sayin’ it’s no problem then changin’ their minds… figure it’s better to get it outta the way right away before that happens again.” 

“Sounds like that fuckin’ sucks.” 

“Ya know what? It really fuckin’ does. Ya shoulder feelin’ better yet?” 

“Starting to.” 

“Good. Guess it’s good ya came down here, gives me somethin’ to focus on… I was goin’ nuts in my room.” 

“Why, ran out of material to jack off to?” 

“Ha ha,” Angel rolled his eyes. “No, Val hasn’t texted me back after he kicked me out, s’kinda weird.” 

Husk snorted. “The fuck do you care? Isn’t it better he doesn’t talk to you, anyway?” 

“Eh…” Angel’s hands slowed in his work on Husk’s shoulder, “Maybe, but… I dunno… if I’m at least doin’ movies then I can pretend that’s what the contract is for. If I ain’t doin’ that… then what am I contracted to do, exactly? It just says work for him, but that could be anythin’ he can think of. It kinda…” Angel hesitated, then forced the rest of the words out, “It kinda scares me.” 

“Hm…” Husk gently flapped his wing, causing Angel to have to pull his hand away. “Shoulder feels better. Thanks, I guess. Er… did you say you came down here for a snack?” 

“Yeah…” Angel said suspiciously. “Why?” 

Husk grinned, sharp teeth glinting, “I got an idea.” 

\---   
_Anthony sat curled up on Joey’s grimy couch, watching with interest as the other man snorted a line of white powder off the box he called a coffee table. He’d shown up at Joey’s apartment a week ago with a bag of clothes, a gun, and nothing else. It had been the only place he could think of to go. He was still sore with Joey for abandoning him to the cops that night at the Blue Parrott, but it was better than being on the street._

_“You’re goin’ out again?” He half-whined. “It’s been every night this week.”_

_Joey glanced back at him, disinterested. “Gotta make money somehow, sweetheart. Rent’s due next week. And I haven’t said anythin’ cause I know ya had some shit goin’ on, but if ya wanna stay here, ya gonna have to cough up some scratch too. That landlady’s a real ball-buster.”_

_Anthony bit his lip. “I don’t have any money. My family totally cut me off.”_

_Joey shrugged, going back to the white lines, “There’s work out there for those who want it.”_

_“Even those who got public indecency on their record? Everyone knows that means queer.”_

_“There’s workarounds.” Joey stood up, starting to slip on his shoes. “Wanna come with me tonight? Might make a few bucks yourself. There’s always being a coat boy.”_

_Anthony scowled at him. “I don’t wanna be a coat boy.”_

_“Ya wanna live in a box?”_

_“No…”_

_“Then come with me tonight.”_

_\---  
The club Joey took Anthony to that night was a real classy place, not like the Blue Parrott at all. You needed a password to get in and everything, and they served real drinks, not the paint thinner shit that most places served. In his shirtsleeves and trousers that he’d been wearing for a few days, Anthony almost felt underdressed compared to the glamorous men and women that dotted the bar. _

_Nobody seemed to pass him a second glance, and Joey disappeared the moment they got there. Anthony was unsure what the other man was even doing, but he took a seat at the end of the bar anyway._

_“Drink?” The bartender asked, but Anthony shook his head. “Ah, no, sorry, I don’t have any money, I’m just here with my friend…”_

_“Allow me.” A slightly older gentleman sitting on the next stool placed a hand on Anthony’s shoulder and gave him a smile. “What’re you having?”_

_Anthony didn’t know what happened – it all seemed to happen in a blur. One moment he was sitting chatting with the nice guy who bought him a drink, and the next he was seriously making out with him in the men’s room. He didn’t even know the guy’s name, for fuck’s sake!_

_The guy pulled away, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Was nice to meet you, doll. Hope to see you around again real soon.” He passed Anthony a five dollar bill before walking away, leaving Anthony clutching the money completely bemused._

_“There you are!” Joey walked into the bathroom, making Anthony jump._

_“That guy… just gave me money….” Anthony said, still confused. “We made out – it didn’t mean anything, I swear, I don’t know what happened –“_

_“Five dollars,” Joey said, completely ignoring Anthony’s apology, “Huh. Not bad for your first time.”_

_“First…?” Comprehension finally washed over him. “You mean he paid me to – to – you’ve been doing this the whole time?”_

_“Yeah, course,” Joey shrugged. “How d’ya think I’ve been gettin’ my money? This place’s real swell, too, never gets raided ‘cause of the password. I figured you’d do pretty well here. So c’mon,” Joey elbowed him. “Ready for round two?”_

\---   
“Round two’s almost done,” Angel said, bending to stare into the oven. He’d thought he’d had a pretty good reading on Husk, but it turned out there were some hidden facets to the guy. Never in a million years would Angel have guessed Husk would be the one to suggest weed brownies, and yet here they were in the middle of baking their second pan, having already consumed one together. 

“So what was it again?” Husk asked. “ _Figlio di puttanesca?_ ” 

“No, ya moron,” Angel laughed, “ _Figlio di puttana_! Puttanesca is a type of sauce!” 

“Well sorry, we can’t all be bilingual!” 

The oven dinged, and Angel grabbed an oven mit. “Figures the things ya’d wanna learn first are the swears.” 

“Doesn’t everyone?” 

“…Fair enough.” Angel placed the brownie tray on the table, him and Husk each taking one. Despite having eaten almost an entire pan, weed brownies didn’t do much for someone like Angel other than giving him a tiny buzz, but still, a tiny one was better than nothing. 

“It’s gettin’ late,” Husk said finally, “And I’m sure that red piece of shit will have more for me to do tomorrow.” He scooped a few more brownies into his arms, “Thanks for these, though. It… wasn’t too bad. Hangin’ out.” 

“Yeah,” Angel said. “Betta take these to my room with me, unless we wanna see what Charlie’s like stoned.” He paused. “Actually…” 

Husk chuckled. “Try not to drug the princess, Angel. See ya tomorrow.” 

Angel waved him off, then patted his leg. “C’mere, Nuggsy!” The pig obediently trotted up to him and he scooped him up, heading back to his own room. He was sure the weed had something to do with it, but he couldn’t remember another time when he’d been so relaxed around Husk. Usually the cat made him constantly on edge, worried he’d do something wrong. He couldn’t help but hope they’d reached a turning point – although he liked pushing Husk’s buttons, he never enjoyed when they got into serious fights. 

\---   
_“I can’t, I’m exhausted,” Anthony said from where he lay on the mattress he called a bed in Joey’s apartment, pale, with dark circles under his eyes. Joey stood over him, hands on his hips._

_“C’mon, Tony. You said you’d do this for me, remember?”_

_Anthony glanced up at him, tired and unsure. He’d been offering his body to other men for a few months now, but he’d been out almost every night and it was taking his toll on him. He just wanted a break._

_“Here, I got somethin’ to wake you up,” Joey pulled the bag of white powder from his pocket. “It does wonders, trust me. Just try it – it’s like a goddamn miracle.”_

_Anthony grunted and turned his head away. “I don’t want to.”_

_“There’s people out there waiting for you, Tony,” Joey said. “Don’t wanna disappoint them, do you?”_

_“Don’t care.”_

_Joey knelt next to Anthony, gently grabbing his chin to tilt it back towards him. “But if you don’t go, you’ll disappoint me, too. You don’t want to disappoint me, do you, sweetheart?”_

_Anthony hesitated, frowning at him, before sitting up and reaching for the bag._

\--- 

Angel’s phone was glowing with an unread message when he returned to his room. He felt his stomach sink as he picked it up and realized who it was from. 

Val: Didn’t come back tonight. Daddy’s disappointed, baby. 

Angel paused for a minute, controlling his breath, before turning the phone completely off and closing his eyes, trying to fall back into the pleasant buzzing feeling from the brownies. 

He curled into bed with Fat Nuggets, letting the warm feeling take over. He could deal with Val’s bullshit in the morning. For now, he was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angel definitely thought he was gonna ride on Husk's back like that kid from the Neverending Story haha. 
> 
> Remember boys and girls, if your Significant Other constantly says you'll disappoint them or they'll be mad at you if you don't wanna do something they want you to do, they're being manipulative jerks! Also, five bucks in 1938 money is like ninety dollars in today money so he really didn't do too bad! 
> 
> Anywho, thanks for reading, as always feel free to comment if you wish to, and thanks so much for the kudos and comments so far!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda a long one today but there was a lot to get through. Also very minor Tw suicide mention but it is just very barely mentioned.

Husk looked up, surprised, as Angel plopped himself down heavily on a bar stool. It was only seven p.m., still early. He’d only even been at his post for about an hour. Usually Angel didn’t come searching for drinks until later. He was even more surprised when Angel slapped a fifty on the bar. 

“Just keep ‘em comin’ til that runs out.” 

Husk put down the glass he’d been cleaning, raising an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Any specific request or just somethin’ to get you drunk?” 

“I dunno, whateva,” Angel waved a hand, “Start wit’ tequila I guess.” 

Husk pulled the shotglass out and reached up to grab the tequila bottle, glancing over his shoulder at Angel, who’d pulled out a notebook and pen, tapping the pen irritatedly against the counter. 

“You just come from work?” Husk tried, trying to guage why Angel appeared to be in such a shitty mood. 

“Nah. Just came from Charlie.” 

Husk silently poured the shot, trying not to let his confusion show on his features. Charlie could be a lot sometimes, sure, but he’d never seen her piss anyone off, especially Angel. 

Angel took the shot and downed it, passing it back for a refill, which Husk obliged. 

“Got ‘redemption’ homework,” Angel finally explained. “Charlie wants me ta write a letter ta someone who pissed me off in life and then like rip it up or somethin’… she says it’s supposed to help me let go or some shit. But tryin’ ta think who ta write is kinda… pullin’ up some bad memories I guess. I didn’t really wanna think about it, but if I gotta, I’m doin’ it drunk.” 

He poised his pen over the blank page, then shook his head and dropped it again. “Anyone eva fuck ya over, Husky?” 

Husk snorted. “We’re in Hell, Angel. What do you think?” 

“Right. Sorry. Dumb question, I guess. Al, I’m guessin’?” 

“Mm…” Husk shook his head slowly, grabbing another shot glass. “He can be a dick but… at least, from what I can remember, he tried to give it to me straight. I made the deal ‘cause…” he gnawed his lip, remembering the other day when Angel had opened up to him, then poured a shot for himself. “If I’m gonna tell ya this, I ain’t doin’ it sober either. Anyway, you know I been in war, yeah?” 

Angel nodded. 

“Not just war, though. Prisoner of war, too.” 

Angel grimaced. “Oof. That sucks.” 

Husk traced a claw around the rim of his shotglass. “If you ask me… it was worse than Hell. The actual deal with Alastor – it’s hard to remember, kinda like tryin’ to hold on to water, but the reason… well, I remember the reason I made it. There was this guy –“ 

“Ooh, a guy?” Angel smirked, and Husk scowled at him. 

“Nevermind, then.” 

“No, no, no,” Angel waved a hand, “Sorry for interruptin’. Go on, a guy. What guy?” 

“A kid from my unit. Pretty young. We were captured together, but he was having a seriously rough time of it. I was tryin’ my best to help him out, keep him alive, but… I did somethin’ stupid and he got blamed for it. Found out they took him to Hanoi – and rumor was, nobody came back alive from there. That’s when Al showed up.” 

Angel cocked his head. “Alastor showed up when ya were alive? I didn’t know he could do that.” 

“That fucker has more tricks up his sleeve than you could imagine,” Husk sighed. “Anyway, it worked, I guess. I dunno what the fuck Al did but the next week the camp was raided and we were sent home, but I didn’t see that kid again until…” 

Husk trailed off, and Angel frowned at him. “Until when? Husk?” 

The cat shook his head, clearly forgetting that he’d brought someone else in on his train of thought now, “Sorry. Like I said, we got sent home. They promised us parades and shit, but it… wasn’t that kinda time. It wasn’t what we expected when we got back.” 

\--- 

_Husk sat cross-legged on the corner that crossed between a convenience store and a bar. The old sleeping bag he was sitting on was getting thinner by the day, and he could feel his ass going numb from sitting on the asphalt so long. Living on the streets sucked for a number of reasons, but he never would’ve guessed at how boring it was. Nothing to do but search for safe sleeping spots, scrounge, and sit._

_His return from Vietnam hadn’t been what he’d been promised. His old shithole of an apartment rented out and his stuff gone, the landlady claiming she was sure he’d been killed. Despite what he’d been told when he joined up, being a soldier didn’t actually pay that well, and since he was now officially honorably discharged, he didn’t even have that to fall back on. The country was in crisis, and finding a job even with his military history proved almost impossible. He bounced from motel to motel for a while, but eventually, the money ran out._

_He tried staying at the VFW for a bit, but they were always trying to make him go to AA meetings and harassing him about counseling every time he rolled out of the cot they called a bed. It wasn’t his fault that booze was one of the only effective ways to make the nightmares and flashbacks go away. Not to mention the meals were crap. He’d rather live on the street than deal with that fucking shit, and so, here he was._

_A cup of coffee sat in front of him, the effort of some very enthusiastic nuns who’d come across him in the morning. There had been a donut with it too, but that was long gone. He reached for the Styrofoam cup, blinking as a passerby flicked a coin into it, apparently not realizing it was full of coffee. Husk let out a slight groan. Of fucking course._

_He sucked down enough of the coffee to be able to reach the bottom with his fingers, wincing as the liquid burned his skin as he finally caught hold of the coin and pulled it out. Along with the small pile he’d collected the rest of the day from other generous passers-by, he had enough for a drink. Excellent – that would also mean a few hours in the warm. The owner of the bar across the street was a decent enough guy, usually let Husk sit there until closing as long as he had enough money for at least one drink. He checked his watch and stood, starting to stagger across the street. Only five minutes until opening time._

\--- 

“Shit, I didn’t know ya roughed it on the streets too,” Angel said. 

“Too?” Husk raised an eyebrow at him, and Angel rubbed at his arm. 

“Yeah, after my pops kicked me out, I was shackin’ up wit’ this guy but he turned out to be… well, we didn’t work out. Didn’t have nowhere else to go so I was just on the street suckin’ dick, basically.” 

“I definitely wasn’t sucking dick,” Husk insisted. “But the street… yeah. Wasn’t fun. What happened with the guy you shacked up with?” 

“Oh ho, so now it’s counseling session with the most emotionally constipated guy in the hotel?” Angel teased. “Nah, no thanks. Let’s just say he’s one a’ the guys I was thinkin’ about writin’ this stupid letter to today.” 

“Gotcha. Another shot?” 

“Like ya gotta ask.” Angel watched Husk pour the shot and grabbed the glass, but didn’t down it this time, swirling it around instead. “The kid ya mentioned, ya shack up wit’ him?” 

“No,” Husk snorted. “Not at all. I wasn’t into him like that, I was just… worried about him. War’s hard, harder even when you’re young like that. That’s what I thought, anyway.” He pushed his own empty shot glass away, picking up his usual bottle instead and unscrewing the cap. “When ya said if anyone screwed me over…” he sighed, taking a swig. “Like I said, I ain’t tellin’ you this sober.” 

“You saw him again and he fucked you over,” Angel guessed, thought it wasn’t even really a question. 

“I never even knew if I would see him again,” Husk said, staring down the bottle’s neck as if he could see his memory at the bottom of the dark liquid. 

\--- 

_Husk growled softly to himself at the bar, really trying to ignore the increasingly loud argument between the two men on the bar floor behind him. He should really mind his business. All he wanted to do was sit here quietly and have a drink, but these two assholes were making the quiet part real difficult._

_He stared into the half-empty glass in front of him, trying to focus on it instead of the fight, but it became especially difficult when one of the agitators threw a punch, sending the other staggering straight into Husk’s back, nearly making him spill his drink. He spun on the stool, snarling at them. “Hey!”_

_“Got a problem, asshole?” The guy who’d thrown the punch squared up to him. Husk looked him up and down, unimpressed._

_“If you’re gonna fight like shitheads, at least go ahead and have the decency to do it outside. I’m tryin’ to enjoy my drink, here.”_

_“The fuck you call me?!”_

_Husk caught the punch thrown at him with barely any effort, sliding off the stool and twisting the man’s arm until he was able to yank it over his shoulder and use his own body weight to throw him heavily to the floor. “I called you a shithead. Now fuck off and lemme drink in peace before I sober up enough to think of somethin’ better to call you while I pound you.”_

_“C’mon, man,” The guy’s friends surrounded him, helping him up, “The guy’s whacko, it’s not worth it.”_

_Husk watched them flee out the door, returning to his drink, satisfied. Bunch of dicks._

_“Not bad.”_

_Husk looked up to find Paul, the bartender, watching him, impressed. He hadn’t stepped in to bother with the fight – he’d run the bar long enough to know better. Paul glanced at Husk’s empty glass, refilling it, then waved a hand when the other man started to protest, “On the house, this time. I didn’t know you could scrap like that.”_

_“Eh, comes with the ex-soldier territory, it ain’t that special,” Husk said, reaching for the new glass, “Helps that the guy was completely blasted.”_

_“You know…” Paul said slowly, “You’ve been coming here a while… and I’ve been tryin’ to think of a way to help you out,” he held up a hand when Husk opened his mouth to protest, “I know, you don’t want charity, but this wouldn’t be charity. It’d be a job. Buddy of mine is building one of those new casinos – you know, the new one over on the main strip? It’s opening soon - betcha he could use some security. You’d probably be good at that. Want me to see if needs someone? I can put in a good word.”_

_Husk mulled it over, sipping at his drink. His mind went to his thin sleeping bag, still waiting for him on the corner. Nevada was a desert, meaning it got fucking cold at night, and he was getting sick of the tedium of it all. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Call him up.”_

\--- 

“Alright, Husker, you’ve avoided me for quite long enough.” Husk and Angel both blinked, staring up at Alastor, who was striding into the lobby. “I daresay I’ve indulged you, but you know very well I don’t like my errands to be put off that long – takes the surprise out of the whole thing.” 

“Ugh, fine, just lemme put this shit away,” Husk said, starting to clear up the bar, muttering to himself. 

Angel looked between the two, then leaned forward, “Oh, but Husky, I haven’t given you my payment for my drinks yet!” 

“Whaddya mean, ya –“ 

Angel cleared his throat as he fixed Husk’s eyes with his own, nodding up and down as he spoke, deliberately enunciating each word. “I. Haven’t. Paid. You. Yet.” 

“Oh – uh, right, right,” Husk said, pulling back from Angel’s grip, unsure where the spider was going with this, “Yeah. You owe me.” 

Radio feedback crackled around Alastor, “Well? Pay him, then, so we can be off.” 

“Oh no, I don’t have any money,” Angel purred, confusing Husk further since Angel had given him a fifty to cover his drinks. “Husk and I came to a different agreement, didn’t we, kitty cat?” 

“Uh – yes?” 

“A private strip show, right here in the lobby!” Angel said brightly, sliding off his stool, propping his leg on it and leaning forward to make eyes at Alastor as he reached for the top button of his jacket, “But I guess I wouldn’t mind havin’ anotha spectator….” 

“No, no,” Alastor turned away, walking quickly toward the exit, clearly desperately trying not to look at Angel, “You… ah – settle up – I shall be waiting when you are… er… quite finished.” 

Angel let out a laugh as Alastor disappeared, re-buttoning his top and taking his place again on his stool. “I can’t believe that fuckin’ worked. What a prude.” 

Husk let out a chuckle of his own, surprising himself. “That one was clever, I’ll give ya that. You know I’m gonna have to go with him sooner or later.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Angel clinked the ice around in his glass insistently, and Husk grabbed the bottle to refill it, “But then who knows how long I’d have to wait around before I could hear the end of ya story? Al of all people should know ya don’t interrupt a good show.” 

“I’m glad my struggles are so entertaining for you,” Husk raised an eyebrow, and Angel shook his head. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“I know. I’m just bein’ a dick.” 

“Wow. You really have been makin’ progress at the hotel if you’re admittin’ that!” 

“Shut up.” 

“Ya wouldn’t like me quiet, trust me. Now c’mon, tell me what happened, you still haven’t told me ‘bout when you saw the guy again.” 

Husk sighed. He was rethinking talking about this, but he was already too deep in it now. Maybe telling Angel was a mistake. Once the spider got his mind set on something, he was like a pitbull – wouldn’t let it go. 

“Right, the guy – his name was Sanderson, actually.” 

“Just Sanderson?” 

“Nah, he had a first name, obviously, but it’s been so long... I don’t remember it now.” 

\----- 

_Husk stared longingly at the casino bar from his spot behind the blackjack table. He’d been at the place a year now – what had started as a stint in security quickly moved to cover for whatever position didn’t show up that day. Bartender, card dealer, even janitor a few times. The pit boss especially liked him on the card tables, because he had an innate talent for telling if people were cheating. Took a cheater to know one, of course. He had his own room at the attached motel, a bit of his wages garnished each week to pay for it. He didn’t mind – having a roof over his head was better than keeping whatever pittance they took._

__

_It was a weekday, and the casino was slow. Mostly retirees and dads looking for a break from their vacationing families. Husk was bored out of his mind, but he couldn’t be caught drinking on the job. Not again. All he could do was fantasize about it._

__

_“Hey, look alive,” the pit boss said as he passed by. “Rumor’s that the owner is gonna stop by today with his son. Make sure everything’s ship-shape, got it?”_

__

_“Yeah, yeah,” Husk grunted. The owner came by a couple of times a year, usually causing all the higher-level employees at the casino go into panic mode. Husk couldn’t give a shit whether or not under all the coasters had been cleaned or whatever. The owner never brought anyone with him, though, certainly not a son. That part was at least mildly interesting._

__

_The afternoon passed slowly, the only customer at Husk’s table being a hundred-year-old lady who needed to take a hit of oxygen every time she played a new hand. Husk had resigned himself to the tedium of the day, and so was more than surprised when someone from the memories he’d been trying so hard to bury suddenly sat down in front of him._

__

_“Sanderson?!” Husk scrambled to pick up the cards that had burst from his hands as he messed up his shuffle in his surprise. “What – how – “_

__

_“Wow,” the other man chuckled, “Never thought I’d see the great Lieutenant Husk struggling for words.”_

__

_Husk shook his head, staring at him. Outside of the jungle, out of the uniform and the terror of the prisoner camp, Sanderson looked almost alien in this setting. He had filled back out to a healthy weight, and clearly wasn’t doing badly for himself, considering the tailored suit and thousand dollar watch he was wearing._

__

_“What the fuck are you doing here?”_

__

_Sanderson frowned, cocking his head a little bit, finally bringing back a bit of the young soldier Husk had known. “You mean you didn’t know? My dad owns this place.”_

__

_Husk just stared at him, unable to process what he was hearing. Sanderson took out a cigarette, lighting it up, gesturing around with it. “Dad’s retiring soon, so I came to check out the ropes. I couldn’t believe when I saw your name on the employee roster, thought damn, it can’t be the same guy, but here you are! Can you take a break? I definitely think a catch up drink is in order.”_

__

_“Yeah,” Husk said, still trying to rationalize the man in front of him with the scared Private he remembered. “Lemme just grab the pit boss so I can clock out –“_

__

_“Nah, don’t worry about that,” Sanderson waved a hand. “You’re with the boss-to-be, after all. I’ll cover for ya.”_

__

_Husk shrugged, “Drink it is, then. But the first one’s on me.”_

\--- 

“So he was a fuckin’ rich kid?!” Angel frowned, reaching for a cigarette, “Damn, what a loser.” 

“It bugged me for a long time,” Husk admitted. “Wonderin’ how come I kept getting the short end of the stick while everything turned up roses for him. Almost drove me insane wonderin’ about it my first few years in Hell.” 

“He ain’t here, then?” 

“Nah, he’s still alive, far as I know.” Husk scowled down at the table, “But I’m sure there’s a special spot reserved for him once he does kick the bucket.” 

\--- 

_It had been a trip seeing Sanderson again, trading war stories, finally finding out what had happened to him in Hanoi. The kid seemed to be doing well for himself, and Husk was glad. He didn’t see him often, but occasionally he’d stop by to check on the casino, and Husk would take a break and have a drink with him._

_Sometimes Husk wondered if he’d dreamed making a deal with the red man as jazz played from a broken radio, but he figured it was worth making the deal since he’d apparently managed to keep the guy alive enough that he could eventually thrive. He didn’t regret it._

_Not until six months after Sanderson took over as owner of the casino._

_It was a usual busy weekend at the casino. The economy had dipped again, leaving them short-staffed, but it didn’t seem to stop the usual customers, all hoping for a piece of luck to save them from their financial burdens. The tables were packed, which is why it surprised Husk when the pit boss approached him at his station, telling him the big boss wanted to see him upstairs._

_Sanderson was pacing in his office when Husk got there, giving him a tight smile as the other man walked in._

_“Jim.”_

_“Like I told ya before, ya can call me Husk. Everyone else does.”_

_“Fine, fine, whatever.” Sanderson seemed agitated as he waved a hand toward a chair, “Have a seat.”_

_Husk did so, watching him, concerned. “Everything okay?”_

_“More or less,” Sanderson said, watching the movement of the casino from the plexiglass window next to his desk. “You know we’ve had to let a few people go.”_

_Husk nodded. He knew about the economy, it was front page news every day. Nothing new._

_“Well, I’m afraid… we can’t be keeping on someone who drinks on the job.”_

_“What?” Husk blinked at him, trying to make sense of the words. Sure, it was true he still had a drinking problem outside of work hours, but he’d been incredibly careful to stay sober on the clock, knowing full-well it was the only thing really keeping him out of the gutter._

_“All those on the house drinks on your ‘breaks’?” Sanderson made air quotes, “They were all on the clock, buddy.”_

_“Now, wait a minute,” Husk bristled, starting to realize what was going on, “You said –“_

_“Don’t try to blame this on me,” Sanderson said quickly, then lowered his voice as if someone was listening. “I’m sorry, but… we can’t fire vets without reasonable cause. We can’t afford to keep you on. I needed a cause.”_

_Husk launched to his feet, unsure what he was planning to do – punch the kid’s face in, maybe. At the last minute he let his hand fall to his side. “And my room?”_

_Sanderson wouldn’t look at him. “Unfortunately, we can’t afford to let you stay there, either.”_

_“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”_

_“…That’s not the casino’s problem.”_

_Husk growled, leaning forward to grip the wood of his massive desk, “I saved your fucking ass. I looked out for you! And this is how you repay that?!”_

_Sanderson just shrugged. “The war’s been over a long time, Jim. All that stuff is in the past. This is just business.”_

_“Fuck you,” Husk hissed, turning to storm out. “I hope you go to Hell.”_

\---- 

Angel slid his notebook over to Husk, nudging his claw with it. Husk raised an eyebrow at him. “What?” 

“That guy sounds like a real tool,” Angel said. “Maybe ya should try Charlie’s exercise too. I dunno if it’ll work, but it’s worth a try, right?” He ripped a sheet of paper out of the notebook and passed it over. “She seems to know what she’s talkin’ about. Maybe it’ll help after all.” 

Husk snorted, folding up the paper. “Maybe.” 

Angel paused, watching him. “Guess my fifty’s run out. Um… thanks for sharin’ that, Husk. Ya didn’t have to.” 

Husk shrugged. “Guess it’s kinda nice for someone else to agree that he was a major dick. If he ever turns up here in Hell, let’s go beat him up together.” 

Angel giggled, “Yeah, sure, that sounds fun. I oughtta get goin’, Fat Nuggets’ll be climbin’ the walls.” 

Husk watched the spider saunter away, then unfolded the paper and picked up a pen, tapping it on the wood of the bar. He’d told Angel a small lie – he did remember Sanderson’s first name. He started to write, but he’d only gotten a few words in when the tell-tale radio crackle surrounded him as Alastor called down the stairs. 

“Are you quite finished with your… payment?” 

“Yep, all done,” Husk said, not moving as Alastor suddenly appeared in front of him. 

“Good. Now will you be so kind as to accompany on my errands? I’ve indulged you far enough today, I think.” 

“Lemme guess,” Husk said, folding the paper up again and tucking it away, “This errand of yours has something to do with disemboweling?” 

“Why, Husker, you’re so intuitive.” 

“Whatever, guess I’m in a mauling mood anyway,” Husk said, following Alastor out the door. 

He didn’t know where they were going, and Alastor wasn’t forthcoming, so he was happy to let the deer demon lead while he sank into his own thoughts. They were about a mile away when Alastor finally spoke up. 

“I overheard a bit of your conversation with Angel Dust.” 

“It’s rude to eavesdrop.” 

“If you’d known the deal you made with me would send you straight to Hell once you put that bullet in your head, would you have still done it? Knowing what you did about that young fellow later on?” 

“I… I dunno,” Husk said. “I guess it’s impossible to know.” 

“I haven’t thought about that young scrap in many years. Ah, war. Such easy targets are made there.” 

“Speaking of people who are dicks…” 

“Sticks and stones, Husker. Would you like to know what he’s up to now? You were right, he is still alive.” 

“Not really, but I gotta feelin’ you’re about to tell me.” 

“He was just elected to his fourth term in Congress.” 

Husk groaned, rubbing his face with both paws. “Ya really gotta stop with those fuckin’ bad jokes, Al.” 

Alastor cocked his head, uncomprehending. “What joke?” 

Husk could already feel the headache forming. They walked past a ravine on the side of the road, and Husk paused. “Hey, wait a second, Al, I gotta do something real quick.” 

Alastor paused, watching curiously as Husk took the paper from his hat, reading over it a moment before tearing it into shreds, letting the wind take it into the ravine. 

“What was that all about?” 

Husk shrugged, turning to keep walking. “Nothin’. Angel said Charlie told him it might help or somethin’.” 

“And did it?” 

“No.” 

“Ah, well. To never try is to never know, is it not?”

Alastor strode on ahead, whistling to himself. Husk paused, re-reading the words in his mind before shaking his head as if trying to shake the thought out, before hurrying after Alastor to carry out whatever duty the overlord wanted. 

A short distance away, a torn piece of paper caught itself in a jagged bush. 

_Dear Christopher Sanderson,  
Fuck you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for that stupid Congress joke, I couldn't help myself.  
> But yaaay Angel and Husk are finally learning how much they actually have in common and can get through a conversation without one of them storming off. Progress!  
> Just one chapter left! 
> 
> As always thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments, and feel free to comment if you wish to!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick short wrap-up chapter for ya all!   
> Also CW very very small mention of suicide in this chapter.

“I must say, Husker, it really shouldn’t be this hard to pin you down to do a task for me, considering,” Alastor said, following the cat into the hotel, both of them wiping blood off their claws. “This should have been completed days ago, and I should _not_ have had to accompany you to make sure everything was done properly.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Husk grunted, already looking forward to burying himself in a bottle. “Y’could’ve just done it yourself, then.” 

“The idea was that I wouldn’t have to do it myself,” Alastor said. “I’m a busy man. You know I don’t like to bring up the contract between us often, but –“ 

“The fuck you talkin’ about?” Husk scowled, crossing the lobby and moving behind the bar to find something that would work quickly, “You bring it up every damn day.” 

“There is really no need to be dramatic, I simply want to ensure you aren’t being complacent –“ 

Alastor was interrupted by the sound of a door being opened and slammed, and then the tell-tale click of Angel’s heels walking towards them. The spider in question walked into the lobby, one arm holding onto the other, his gaze cast down. 

“Ah, Angel, I take it Charlie has finished scolding you, then?” Alastor cocked his head. 

Angel glanced up, annoyance crossing his features, “The fuck? You ain’t been here all day, how’d you know what we were talkin’ about? You been spyin’ again?” 

“Why, of course. It is one of my duties to know what goes on under this roof, after all.” Alastor booped Angel gently on the nose with his microphone, turning away before the spider could respond, “Well, I have things to get on with – and Husker – next time I call for you, try not to drag it out so long, hm?” 

“What a dick,” Angel muttered as Alastor disappeared into his shadow. 

Husk looked at him over the rim of his bottle, putting it down, “The fuck ya do to make Charlie yell at you?” 

“She wasn’t yellin’,” Angel said, “Charlie don’t yell. She just… does her disappointed thing, which… I dunno why it bugs me so much more.” He sighed, “She found a drug stash in my room.” 

“Oh.” Knowing what Angel could get up to, that actually didn’t seem so bad to Husk. 

“I’m on probation again. No leavin’ the hotel ‘cept for work or without an escort.” Angel ran his hands through his hair. “I’m gonna be climbin’ the walls.” 

“Well, you are a spider.” 

“Fuckin’ hilarious.” 

_A cheap mattress on a dusty floor. An apartment that Anthony had hoped would be a love nest, now just used for business transactions._

_“I told you not to leave the apartment without letting me know, sweetheart. We lost out on clients.”_

_“I was hungry.”_

_“You should’ve told me, I could’ve gotten it for you. Here, I brought you something better.”_

_White powder lined up on a mirror. A blissful haze that he didn’t know he wouldn’t wake up from in a matter of weeks._

“I can’t deal with bein’ stuck places,” Angel said. “An’ Charlie took the rest a’ my drugs… Husk, will ya come for a walk with me, please? I wouldn’t bug ya but… I’m gonna go nuts and Charlie said I needed some kinda escort.” 

Husk pondered for a moment. He was exhausted from his day with Alastor, but he could see the desperation in Angel’s eyes, and it felt almost cruel to say no. “Well…” 

“I can keep Alastor off ya back some more,” Angel pleaded. “I been doin’ okay at it so far.” 

_Opening his eyes onto a red sky with a pentagram burned into it. The red smiling demon he thought he’d imagined all those years ago standing over him, the white noise of radio static surrounding them._

_“Oh dear, I can’t truly say I’m surprised, but still, suicide is such a nasty business,” Alastor shook his head as he pulled Husk to his feet. “Still. Welcome to Hell. Perhaps now you’d like to go over the particulars of our little contract?”_

_A signed contract and an eternity of burning in a sacrifice for a man who ultimately ended up ruining his life._

“Fine, I’ll come out with ya,” Husk said. “But I ain’t going to any nudie bars.” 

Angel allowed himself a smile at that. “Nah. I got somewhere better in mind.” 

\--- 

“This is a field,” Husk said bluntly as he followed Angel onto the expanse of dry grass. A few skeletons of broken buildings remained, too burned or damaged to really tell what they had once been. 

“Real observant, Husky,” Angel laughed, pulling a baseball bat out of somewhere – probably wherever he kept his third arms when he wasn’t using them – and picking up a large rock. 

“What, no ball?” Husk raised an eyebrow. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I ain’t actually made outta balls,” Angel threw back his head to laugh at his own joke, then tossed the rock up and down in one hand. “C’mon, ya must’ve played a bit.” 

“Course I have,” Husk bristled. 

“Good. S’a great way to get aggression out. ‘Course it’s betta when there’s actually somethin’ ta hit but…” Angel shrugged, “Don’t wanna get Charlie up my ass more today. Ya wanna hit or pitch first?” 

“Uh…” Husk blinked, “I guess pitch?” 

“Alright, but don’t be throwin’ me any shit pitches.” 

_Bright eyes and a brighter smile, Army dogtags dangling around the young man’s neck._

_“Cubs are shit this year,” Sanderson said as the soldiers threw each other pitches in a rare moment of play._

_“Just shut up and get ready for the pitch,” Husk smirked._

Husk dropped the rock he was clutching, his eyes widening as his breath tightened. Angel lowered the bat with a frown. “Husk?” 

He moved over to the cat, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing. “Hey. Hey. I think you’re havin’ a panic attack or some shit – here, sit down –“ Angel tugged Husk down so he was sitting in the grass. “Try to focus, look around, whaddya see?” 

Husk tugged at his ears, “I see… grass an’… burned out buildings – shit, fuck, I need a drink –“ 

“There ain’t no alcohol here right now. The grass, how’s the grass feel?” Angel said firmly, making sure to keep eye contact. 

“It’s uh – dry… and… prickly… and gettin’ in my fur…” 

“Good, what else? The air? How’s the air?” 

“S’cold…” Husk said, his chest starting to expand more, letting more air into his lungs as he began to come down from the panic, “But it ain’t too bad.” 

They sat in silence for a little while, Angel flopping into the grass to sit next to him, bat by his side, arms wrapped around his knees. 

“….What was that?” Husk said after a while. 

“Just some tricks I learned ova the past decades dealin’ wit’ my own shit,” Angel shrugged. “Kinda amazin’ how much it works.” 

_The air was suffocating around him, he couldn’t breathe as he tore at his hair._

_“Get the fuck back up, baby.”_

_“I c-can’t breathe, Val, I –“_

_A kick to the ribs. Laser focus on the pain, feeling the cold tile under his fingers as the man who’d promised to take care of him loomed above him. The same fucking mistake in death as in life._

_Take a breath and count to three._

Angel’s smile faded a little. “I actually use those tricks a lot. Charlie’s been helpin’ give me some tools to deal wit’ shit too, it’s just hard.” 

Husk hummed a non-committal response, his eyes falling on the discarded bat next to Angel. “Lemme guess. Dodgers fan?” 

Angel scoffed. “Was, until I found out those turncoat bums moved their asses to California. What a joke. They shoulda stayed in Brooklyn, we were the fans who made ‘em!” 

“More of a Yankees fan, myself,” Husk said. 

“Yeah well, if I’d still been alive when the Dodgers turned their back on New York, I mighta been a Yankees fan too,” Angel chuckled, getting to his feet, “But my family were die-hard Dodgers fans through and through. My brother and sister an’ I used to sneak through fences to see games. ‘Course it was a lot easier back then. Cherri tells me there’s like… security at sports games now.” 

“Perish the thought,” Husk said, starting to feel better, following Angel’s lead and standing up. He reached down for the rock he’d dropped. “Alright, grab that bat. Show me your best swing.” 

\--- 

Angel had to admit, as he walked back to the hotel with Husk, it felt good to be the one helping someone else for once, rather than having someone having to take care of his dumb ass. Panic attacks and anxiety were something he well and truly knew about. 

“So we’re not gonna tell Charlie about knockin’ out that demon with a rock, right?” Angel checked. 

Husk shook his head, “What’s she gonna do, anyway? It was an accident. He’ll be fine in a few hours.” 

Angel chuckled. “I might be a bad influence on you, Husky.” 

“Kid, I’m startin’ to think you’re a bad influence on everyone.” 

Angel blew a raspberry at him, but he had to admit, Husk’s company was different now. He wasn’t quite sure when things had shifted between them, but they had. Conversation was no longer sharp, Husk’s ribbing comments never hurt his feelings anymore, and he’d learned enough to know when Husk was too uncomfortable and he needed to back off on the flirting. 

“If ya promise not to wave it in everyone’s face I can make ya a drink to sneak back up to your room,” Husk said, making his way back behind the bar once they stepped into the hotel. Angel draped himself over it with a smirk. 

“Why Husky, ya do spoil me.” 

“Don’t push it,” Husk said, though his tone was mild as he bent down to gather ingredients. 

Angel hesitated, then said, “Are ya gonna have one too?” 

“When you go up, yeah.” 

Angel shook his head. “I don’t mind gettin’ in a bit a’ trouble if Charlie sees a drink, it ain’t that bad, really – you shouldn’t drink alone.” 

Husk raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, passing a glass along to Angel before pouring one for himself and holding it up, Angel mirroring him. The old, worn down soldier and the younger mafioso stared at each other for a moment. 

“Here’s to….?” Husk trailed off. 

“Friends,” Angel said with a small smile, “An’ redemption bullshit.” 

“Friends and redemption bullshit,” Husk echoed with a deep chuckle of his own. 

They lost count of the refills that evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this story was kind of weird, thanks to those of you who stuck with me on this odd esoteric journey that I decided I wanted to go on lol. All the comments and kudos were and still are very appreciated!


End file.
